


Peccavi

by Yggdrastiles (hauntedsilences)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Daddy Kink, Developing Relationship, Dreams, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Murder Husbands, Season 2 Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, a moderate amount of, because that's basically my calling card at this point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 08:49:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8095744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedsilences/pseuds/Yggdrastiles
Summary: After a terrifyingly vivid dream, Will realizes that he's going to need to pick a course of action, and the one he picks no longer involves betraying Hannibal. He knows he'll have to confess because if Hannibal were to discover the original plan on his own, it would tear them apart, and Will's not planning on letting him go anytime soon.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete, and I'll be posting every other day :)  
> All mistakes are my own, please feel free to point them out! ♥ Enjoy!

Will was running through the underbrush, his path illuminated only by moonlight as he raced through the forest. He could hear the stag behind him, or was it Randall? He couldn’t stop to look, or he’d be caught, he pushed himself instead, running even faster but his legs felt like they were dragging through molasses. He grunted in frustration as he willed his feet to move, angling his body low like a runner’s crouch as he tried to move faster, but it was too late. He felt the humid breath against his neck a second before the mass crashed into him. 

 

He fell on his face, shoving his hands beneath his body in an attempt to get back up. The weight left his back and he was able to stand and take a look at his assailant. It was Jack, dressed in Randall’s bone suit. Will choked on a gasp at Jack’s accusing eyes. 

 

“Do what must be done, Will. Do what must be done.” He urged, repeating it like a mantra as he shoved Will into a clearing. There was the stag, beaten and bloody and Will was overwhelmed by the sorrow and anguish that he felt. He dropped to his knees in front of the animal, stroking through its feathers as he felt it slowly dying. 

 

“No, no no no no....” Will denied, trying to find the wound from which it was bleeding to put pressure on it, but there was no wound to find. Still, blood seeped around his fingers like it was oozing directly from the skin. “What’s happening?!” He demanded, glaring at Jack who snarled at him. 

 

“It’s dying...” He taunted with a cruel smile. “Finally, it’s dying.” 

 

Will jumped up and shoved Jack. “No! What did you do? I need to save him!”

 

Jack grinned even wider and started laughing. “You broke his heart, Will. This is your fault. You did this.” He mocked, laughing harder and harder and harder until Will silenced him with a punch to the jaw. Will’s knuckles split as they made contact with the edge of the bone suit, but he felt no pain. He fought Jack, rapidly gaining the upper hand and beating him into the ground like he had with Randall. He beat him until his face was a bloody pulp, but Jack was still smiling. He was still smiling, why was he still smiling? Will screamed in a mighty rage and finally just snapped his neck, forcing it all the way around until it faced the ground. 

 

He panted, sweaty and blood drenched as he crawled back to the stag. It’s breathing was ragged and Will couldn’t tell if it was getting better or worse, but he pressed his ear to it’s chest, where it’s heart should have been, but all he heard was the hollow rushing of blood and his own name in a familiar whisper. 

 

“Will....Will....” He couldn’t quite place the voice, but he knew it, he was sure of that. He knew it like he knew his dogs, his bed, his home. The voice grew fainter and Will cried out, sobbed, begged and pleaded, but it grew fainter still. 

 

“No! Don’t....you can’t...please don’t leave me...” He begged, his body wracked with huge, ugly, heaving sobs as he cried for the stag. “Please don’t go...” 

 

\-----

 

Will woke up with a sob, sitting up in bed as he glanced around the room, his vision made blurry with the tears he’d been and still was, crying. He blinked rapidly and saw that his clock read 4:06 am. He wiped at his face before collapsing in another wave of sobs. It was an anguish that came from the very depth of his being and he couldn’t stop crying. 

 

When he finally was able to calm down a bit, he realized that almost twenty minutes had passed and he tried to think about his dream rationally. Even overlooking the obvious symbolism in the dream, one thing was very clear. He wasn’t on Jack’s side. Whatever happened, he couldn’t be on Jack’s side. It was something he’d been struggling with over the past few weeks, but now he knew for certain that regardless of what his (very complicated) feelings for Hannibal were, there wasn’t a place for Will in Jack’s world. Not anymore.

 

Setting Randall on him might have been the best thing Hannibal had ever done for him, in terms of helping him know himself. Will had never truly wanted to admit, even to himself, that he had a latent violence within himself that could be brought to the fore with very little provocation. But the truth was, Will had always known. He had always known, and it had always scared him, because he’d never wanted to become the monsters that he let into his head. But he could see them, their motivations and techniques, and would find himself thinking how he could do it so much better. He, with government training and forensic background. He could be unstoppable. But he also knew that if he ever started...and got away with it...there would be absolutely no motivation to stop after that. 

 

He wondered now if that was truly such a bad thing. 

 

So with that in mind, he thought about his options. He needed to dedicate himself to this completely, because it was no longer a game. The FBI would be able to pin Randall on him, depending on how much Jack had actually written down, but that didn’t mean he was allowed to be sloppy. He still had the bone suit, for one. And various leftover body parts in an unlocked freezer. All of that needed to change, especially before Freddie Lounds made it to his house later in the week for her interview. 

 

Somehow, possibly through sheer dumb luck, she had always managed to see the darkness in him as clearly as Hannibal could and that was a huge liability. No, Freddie had to go. 

 

More importantly, however, there was another issue that Will needed to address as soon as possible. Hannibal. Because even though he was still furious at the man, Will couldn’t imagine a world in which Hannibal was dead, or worse, locked up. Or even worse still, alive and well somewhere in the world without Will. No, Will had promised him a reckoning and Will needed to be with him to deliver. 

 

Besides, he was claiming the Chesapeake Ripper for his own. He was the only one clever enough to find him, to see him, and he’d be damned if he let the FBI take credit for that. Nope, he found him and now he was going to keep him. Hannibal’s life and Hannibal’s death were both owed to him, and he intended to collect tenfold. 

 

Will swung his legs out of bed, tugging his shirt off of his body. His breathing was still broken with occasional sobs as he cleaned himself up. He needed to call Hannibal. He needed to confess that he had made a mistake and that he was contrite, ready to be the monster Hannibal had hoped for. Because if he didn’t, and Hannibal somehow found out on his own (which Will had no doubt was incredibly possible and likely, even) then Will would be lucky to escape with his life, let alone all his body parts...and that really wasn’t the ending that he wanted for them. 

 

Before he could lose his nerve, he picked up the phone and dialed Hannibal’s phone number. It rang twice before a drowsy and sleep-roughened voice answered, “Hello? Will?” He greeted. 

 

“Hannibal.” Will said with a sigh of relief that was interrupted by a sob. He hadn’t really believed Hannibal to be in danger at that moment, but to hear it confirmed was comforting, still. 

 

“Will? What’s the matter?” He asked, sounding more alert and now concerned by Will’s tone of voice.

 

“Sorry it’s so late. Or early, rather.” Will started with, belatedly realizing that it was still before five in the morning. 

 

“That’s quite alright, Will. I’m always available for you.” He said earnestly, and the sincerity that Will heard in his voice made something in his stomach clench. 

 

“I...I don’t know how to explain this. I had been having trouble deciding between two courses of action and I just had a dream, or a nightmare really, that...cleared some things up.” He admitted.

 

Hannibal was quiet for a moment and Will could hear his own heart pounding in his chest. Finally Hannibal spoke. “Tell me about your nightmare, Will.” He said evenly, with nothing to betray his thoughts or emotions. 

 

Will did, he recounted the entirety of his dream but couldn’t keep the tears at bay. By the end of his retelling he was crying again, and sniffing, finishing with, “...I was too late. I was too late and there was nothing I could do and...” He broke off with a tortured sound, shaking his head even though Hannibal wouldn’t be able to see it. 

 

“Shhh, Will. It’s alright.” Hannibal’s soothing voice came in over the receiver. “It was merely a dream. You are not too late.” He soothed. “It is not until one has walked over the precipice that they are truly beyond redemption.” 

 

Will nodded, calming down after having to relive the horror he’d just fled from in his dreams. “Can I see you, Hannibal? I think we need to talk in person.” 

 

“Yes, Will. I should think that would be for the best.” He agreed. “Feel free to come over as soon as you are ready. I do not believe I will be going back to sleep tonight.” 

 

“Okay, I’ll be there in a bit, Hannibal.” 

 

“I’ll look forward to it, Will.” 

 

\-------

 

The drive to Hannibal’s was tense and Will’s emotionally fraught state did him no services. He wondered what lay in store for him, what Hannibal’s response would be. He drove through the early morning light on autopilot, surprising himself when he arrived some time later at Hannibal’s house with very little recollection of the drive. He wondered if his encephalitis was returning, but no, he was certain that it was solely sleep deprivation this time. 

 

By the time he arrived, the panic he’d originally felt had lessened, tempered by the rationality of daylight. He felt himself return to the persona he’d crafted to deal with Hannibal after his release from the BSHCI, or something close enough to it that he felt safer, protected. 

 

“Come in, Will.” Hannibal beckoned as he answered the door, annoyingly fully dressed. Will was of the firm belief that he had no right to look as put-together as he did. Not when Will had barely managed to slip on jeans and coat before he was out the door, sweat still plastering his curls to his face. Not fair at all. 

 

Hannibal took his coat and led them both to the kitchen. “I took the liberty of making coffee. I think it would do us both wonders.” He said with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Will winced internally at that, knowing that it was his fault. 

 

Still, he didn’t speak until they both had their coffees and had taken a couple sips of his own. “So.” he started, looking at Hannibal with not a small amount of trepidation. “We need to talk...but I can’t think of a way to start.” 

 

“You’re doing admirably so far.” Hannibal deadpanned before taking mercy on him. “You told me you were having trouble choosing between two paths. Am I correct in assuming you were referring to myself and Jack?” 

 

Will nodded, frowning to himself as he stared down into his cup of coffee. “It’s difficult to shake off beliefs that you’ve held for years.” He started, but no, that wasn’t the point and Hannibal looked at him with an expression that seemed to agree. 

 

Hannibal’s lips pursed, eyes unfathomable. “Right and wrong. Good and evil.” He said. “Which are you, Will? Which am I?” 

 

There wasn’t an answer to that, not truly. “Neither. Both.” Will offered. “I see that now.” 

 

“Do you?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

“I find that I cannot simply take your word for it, Will.” Hannibal said simply. 

 

Will felt a moment of indignation, even though he knew he didn’t have the right. “I don’t know what I think. I’m still figuring it out.” He admitted, knowing that with anything less than complete honesty he wouldn’t be leaving in one piece. “But I know that there isn’t room for me in Jack’s world. I don’t think there ever was.” 

 

If Hannibal was satisfied with this answer, he didn’t show it. “There is no room for doubts in mine.” 

 

Will nodded. That was fair. “I don’t doubt my capacity for violence. I don’t doubt my resolve.”

 

Hannibal tilted his head slightly as his eyes studied Will. “And what resolution have you made?” 

 

“I want to see what I can become. And you’re going to show me.” He said unwaveringly. It was a delicate dance they weaved around each each other, push and pull. Enough respect and deference to play to Hannibal’s love of etiquette, and enough assertion and dominance to establish himself as an equal. Or rather, something approaching equal. Will had no illusions about how Hannibal saw him. He was always one wrong move away from Hannibal’s dinner table. 

 

“Am I?” Hannibal asked, but Will got the impression the question was rhetorical. He had already made up his mind. “And how would I be able to trust you, Will? Tell me, how would you have betrayed me?” His voice was sugared poison. 

 

“Jack refused to discuss it with me. I think he was afraid I’d double-cross him. Triple-cross him? Intrigue was never my arena.” Will smirked. “I would have betrayed you both. Stalled in my decision long enough to see the dust settle around you and Jack and see who emerged victorious.” 

 

There was a brief glint of admiration in Hannibal’s eyes before it was reduced to calm neutrality once more. “To the victor goes the spoils?” 

 

Will huffed a laugh despite himself. “That depends entirely on who the victor would be.” He pointed out. “I might have walked away regardless, forged my own path.” 

 

“A cruel boy you are, Will. You would have your suitors duel for your hand, only to reject them both in the end.” Hannibal said mock-reproachfully, seemingly delighted at the way his words visibly discomfited Will. 

 

“I came here because that’s exactly what I’m not going to do. I’m here because I’ve chosen.” Will said, intent on bringing the conversation back to what they were actually supposed to be discussing. 

 

“Have you come to ask for my hand, then, Will?” Hannibal asked, looking awfully smug. 

 

Will arched an eyebrow, entirely unimpressed. “By your own metaphor, no, I’ve come to accept your petition, not issue one of my own.” 

 

“But that’s not quite true, is it, Will?” Hannibal ventured. “The terms of your courtship have changed, and you’ve come to renegotiate. You may no longer hold my interest. In your own words, Will, maybe  _ I don’t find you that interesting _ .” 

 

Will swallowed against the lump that gathered in his throat. To have those words thrown back at him...no, he couldn’t think about it now. He had to get through this encounter, not crumble under the assault of Hannibal’s tongue. Which...was perhaps not the wisest choice of words under the circumstances. 

 

“In that case, you should be returning the dowry you’ve stolen. You’ve  _ taken advantage _ , Doctor Lecter.” Will pointed out, keeping with the extended metaphor which truthfully had run thin a while ago. 

 

“And how would you propose I do that, Will?” Hannibal asked. “I have despoiled you, I cannot return the virtue of your morality. Shall I make an honest man out of you, then?”

 

Firmly ignoring the reaction those words caused within him, Will pressed forwards. “The way I see it, you owe reparations. Your own warped sense of honor won’t allow you to leave your debts unpaid, and if you were going to kill me, you should have done it already.” He said, raising both eyebrows challengingly. 

 

He was right, and Hannibal knew he was right, so now it was just time to see what he would do about it. Calling attention to Hannibal’s  _ proclivity  _ for murder was perhaps risky, but Will was sure that it was no more foolhardy than engaging in wordplay with the devil...and he’d been doing that since they met. 

 

Will watched with a growing sense of unease as the corners of Hannibal’s mouth curled into a pleased smile. “A shotgun wedding, then.” He said. “How very scandalous.” 

 

“That implies I’m pregnant, Hannibal.” Will deadpanned, dropping the game for a second in the face of Hannibal’s ridiculous suggestion. 

 

Still, it was nothing compared to the downright fiendish glee in Hannibal’s eyes. “I could give it my best effort, of course, for your sake. However, I believe we would encounter medical difficulties.” 

 

Will could feel his mouth gaping, sure that he must still be dreaming because that  _ did not _ just come out of Hannibal’s mouth. It  _ didn’t _ . And yet... 

 

They remained that way for several uncomfortable moments. Hannibal, looking smug as ever and entirely too pleased with himself, and Will looking like he wanted to be literally anywhere else. Will prayed silently that Jack, perhaps, would call him with a crime scene and save him, but when had the universe ever done anything for Will? 

 

Hannibal watched Will over the rim of his cup, the corners of his eyes crinkled as he watched Will fidget. The silence had gone on too long, now. Will knew his face was flushed, and that knowledge only made him blush further. His coffee was almost gone, and he drank it down in a single swallow, instantly regretting it, as now he didn’t have something to occupy his hands. 

 

“More coffee, Will?” Hannibal asked, almost startling him, as the silence had stretched oppressively loud between them. 

 

Will nodded shakily, wondering where, exactly, his ironclad determination had fled to in Hannibal’s wake. 

 

Hannibal served him, filling his glass to the brim and offering him a small, but genuine, smile. Perhaps the most genuine thing Hannibal had done since Will had walked into his kitchen. 

 

“Thank you.” Will said quietly. 

 

“You’re welcome, Will.” He returned graciously. “I seem to have made you uncomfortable.” Before Will could say something like,  _ yeah, no shit _ , he continued. “And while that was entirely my intention, it was also rude, and has distracted us from the topic at hand.” 

 

Will nodded in agreement. “I don’t even remember where we were...” 

 

“As it happens, neither do I. However, be that as it may, there are a few things I need to determine.” 

 

“Like what?” Will asked. 

 

“You admitted your intentions to betray me. That is not something that I can take lightly.” 

 

“Understandable, but surely my admission must count for something?” 

 

Hannibal’s lips quirked. “Are you hoping for a plea bargain, Will?” 

 

Will groaned, rubbing his face tiredly. “Please, no. I don’t think this conversation can survive another metaphor.” 

 

Hannibal gave a put-upon sigh, “Very well, Will. To answer your first question, yes, it does count for something. What, exactly, I cannot say.” He said. “A confession is a powerful action. It aims to absolve the confessor of guilt by virtue of accepting their own sins and repenting for them. Have you repented, Will? Have you come here today seeking absolution?” 

 

Will steadfastly ignored Hannibal’s attempts to engage in another metaphor and instead just answered the question. “I have come seeking forgiveness, yes. I made a mistake, an error in judgement, and I want to put it to rights.” 

 

Hannibal hummed thoughtfully. “Despite what Christianity might tell you, thought and action are entirely separate. The trouble is, of course, that most cannot keep them that way. They...bleed into one another.” He said. “Your prior intent to betray me is not a betrayal. It would perhaps have been more foolish not to consider it.”

 

Was Hannibal saying what Will thought he was saying? Was Hannibal  _ proud  _ of him for his deception, because that’s what it was starting to sound like. Some of his confusion must have shown on his face because Hannibal continued. 

 

“Make no mistake, Will, I am not pleased with your actions, but I am willing to accept your confession as the change of heart you intend it to be.” 

 

Will tilted his head minutely in acceptance of this, wondering what the catch would be. This was by far, too easy. 

 

“And my penance?” He asked warily, earning a tight-lipped smile from Hannibal. 

 

“I imagine you have already considered what I might ask of you.” 

 

It was true, he had. Will considered him for a moment, “You want me to kill with you. For you.” He said simply. Hannibal watched him very carefully, but for once, Will’s expression betrayed nothing. 

 

“A worthy suggestion.” As if Hannibal hadn’t been thinking just that. 

 

“Who?” Will asked. “Or should I pick?”

 

Hannibal hummed softly as he thought about it. Will imagined the appeal of making him choose their first victim would be nigh irresistible. “Have you someone in mind, Will?”

 

Will didn’t even have to pause to think about it. “Freddie Lounds.” 

 

It caused a further curling of Hannibal’s lips into an undeniably pleased smile. “Your feud with Miss Lounds is well-documented and common knowledge.” He pointed out. 

 

Will nodded, “It is, but it would be too obvious for me. As a person with my background, I would know that I’d be the prime suspect.” 

 

Hannibal was still smiling. “They may see it as you do, assume that you wouldn’t kill her because they would assume it was you, and thus your perfect cover becomes even more obvious to them.”

 

Will rolled his eyes and sighed, “We can go on like this endlessly.” He said. “I just need a solid alibi, one which can’t come from you, unfortunately.”

 

“Very well, and how do you propose to accomplish this?” He asked. 

 

Will realized this was his first test. Hannibal was expecting him to plan and carry out their first kill together. The thought made him feel giddy, for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely. Instead he focused on the logistics of pulling this off. “Our 7:30 appointments are common knowledge, and as you’re billing me for them, a bit more credible.” He started, staring at the counter while thinking out loud. “Freddie plans on coming to my house later this week for an interview. I’d rather not have to give that interview, but she can’t disappear during a time that I was supposed to be the last person to have seen her.” Hannibal nods along with his thought process. “We could go to her motel, I guess. She hasn’t stayed at home for weeks, according to Jack. She’s too paranoid to stay at home.” Will said, considering the possibilities. “We could go to her...even make it look like a robbery gone wrong if we wanted to, but...” He furrowed his brow unhappily. 

 

“But what, Will?” Hannibal asked. 

 

“If we’re going to go through all that trouble, we may as well display her.” He said, raising his eyes to look at Hannibal’s which crinkled in approval. 

 

“I concur, Will.” 

 

“Something new, this time. Nothing like Randall.” 

 

“You honored him. Completed his transformation.” 

 

“I did.” Will agreed. “But that’s not me, and she wouldn’t deserve it even if it was.” 

 

“I agree.” Hannibal said simply.

 

“She burned careers, tore people to shreds with her words. Twisted the facts, destroyed reputations...” and at this, Will smirked at Hannibal, “...and sat on your car.” 

 

Hannibal snorted softly, “She leaned against it, yes, but I agree. It was quite rude.” 

 

“And she insulted your cooking.” 

 

“Whatever shall we do about that?” 

 

Will closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets the pendulum swing. He allows himself to imagine what he’d do to her. What they’d do to her, together. She would suffer, she would scream and cry and beg, and they would not stop. After a moment, he opens his eyes, visualization still incomplete, but he’ll figure out the specifics when the time comes. 

 

“How hard is it to cut through bone?” He asked the one person who knows all too well. 

 

Hannibal looked at him, bemused. “I have a bone saw. What do you see, Will?” 

 

Will smiled, a vindictive, terrible thing. “I’d like to embed her camera into her skull, where her brain would be. With the lens emerging from a hole in her forehead.” 

 

Hannibal looked downright gleeful, enough that if Will didn’t know him as he did, he’d be terrified. As it was, the sight was frightening enough. “Clever, imaginative boy.” 

 

\----------

 

In an uncomfortable case of parallel circumstances, Jack wanted to talk about the same thing when Will came into his office the next day. 

 

“Jack, I’ve already killed for him. I don’t see the necessity of this.” Will pointed out. 

 

Jack sighed impatiently. “That was in self-defense, Will. Not premeditated. He’ll want you to do something premeditated.” 

 

Will frowned at Jack, not liking where this was going. “So what, you want me to commit premeditated murder, Jack?” 

 

“Of course not, I want you to  _ pretend  _ to commit premeditated murder.”

 

Will pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Okay, I assume you already have a target in mind?” 

 

Jack smiled, “Freddie Lounds.” 

 

Will’s blood ran cold as he tried to keep calm. Had Jack bugged Hannibal’s house? Planted some kind of recording device on his person? He merely raised an eyebrow as he privately panicked. 

 

“You must admit she’d be perfect, Will.” Jack went on. 

 

“And what makes you say that?” Will asked, voice kept steadily neutral. 

 

Jack levelled him with an unimpressed look. “Because everyone knows how much you hate her, Will. It’s believable. And she’ll cooperate if she thinks it’ll earn her the story of the year. She’ll love being able to brag about helping to catch the Chesapeake Ripper.” 

 

Will exhaled slowly, relieved but careful not to show it. Jack didn’t seem to actually suspect anything. Good. He just happened to reach the same conclusion as Will and Hannibal had, which was disconcerting in and of itself. “You’re right, Jack, she’d work.” 

 

Jack nodded slowly, pleased that Will agreed. “Excellent. I’ll get in touch with her and brief her on the operation as soon as possible.” 

 

Will begged off as soon as he was able to, driving home tiredly. There was a lot he still had to do in preparation. He let the dogs out to run around the yard as he slipped into the barn. There was no forensic evidence to tie him to Randall Tier, except for the bone suit which he now lowered to the ground and began to dismantle. Everything else was circumstantial, something that even Jack had insisted upon. 

 

Will worked quickly and methodically. Reducing the suit to its individual components. The bones were placed in one pile, while mechanical parts were placed in another. He’d clean all the mechanical parts thoroughly, and then cover them in believable amounts of grease and grime. They could be disposed of at a junkyard, scattered amongst the detritus of broken machinery. 

 

The bones he could deal with more directly, however. Once heated, bones turned brittle, especially these, old as they were. Then it wasn’t difficult to grind them to dust, a powder fine enough to be scattered without suspicion. 

 

There were a few pieces of leather and various straps to hold the suit together, all easily burned to ash and then disposed of in a similar manner as the bones. 

 

Will’s work took the better part of the afternoon, the dogs keeping watch for him as he worked diligently. He tossed the parts he was going to take to the junkyard into a black trash bag and loaded it into the back of his car. He decided to make the trip then, rather than put it off until later. The sun had disappeared over the horizon, and he had less than an hour before the light was gone completely. 

 

It was about a half hour each way, the trip itself unremarkable as he disposed of the last vestiges of evidence. This was both his insurance and his damnation. He couldn’t be prosecuted for a murder they couldn’t tie him to, and the bone suit was the only real evidence against him. Jack, on the other hand, would be incredibly suspicious if he knew. He’d instinctively see it as Will losing faith in the FBI, in their plan, and then he’d wonder why. Will didn’t have a good answer for him. 

 

He poured a whiskey before bed, staring into his fireplace and wondering how his life had gotten to this point. He wondered what the beat cop from Louisiana would say if he knew where he’d end up in a few years. He wouldn’t have believed it. 

 

But the further into the gaping maw of Hannibal’s influence he ventured, the harder it was to imagine a life where none of this had happened to him. No, he’d made his choice. There wasn’t time for doubts when playing this kind of game. Although was it even still a game? If it was, it had no rules, no clear winners. Unless you counted the living and the dead, which was a fairly bleak prospect if that was the case. 

 

No, this wasn’t a game, and maybe it never had been. What happened when the cat and mouse game was played entirely with cats? There were only ever three kinds of creatures where predators were concerned. Prey, rivals, and mates. Will wasn’t prey anymore, never had been, but he hadn’t realized it before. 

 

What was it that Hannibal had said once?  _ Shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. _ It was true. It was what caused the nightmares and the terrors and the sweats. His ingrained beliefs rebelling against what, his innate nature? Certainly, if Hannibal was to be believed. But at what point did he stop taking Hannibal’s word as blind truth? Who was Hannibal to dictate who he was, who he could become? 

 

Will wasn’t quite fully drunk, but his inhibitions were lowered just enough for him to be able to admit to himself that yes, the horror he felt was at the lack of horror he felt towards the truly horrible parts of the world. Would it be so bad to let go of that? To let himself feel without guilt? 

 

Will wondered what it would feel like to accept himself fully. Not who Hannibal said he was, but himself. To stop mentally chastising himself for feeling and thinking differently. He made a slightly tipsy resolution to stop his internal monologue from judging him. He needed to trust himself, beyond all else. He needed to be able to be his own anchor, his own paddle. 

 

He stood up, stumbling towards his desk as it became apparent he was a good deal more inebriated than he’d thought. He grabbed a sticky note and a pen and wrote in big, block letters: 

**_BE YOUR OWN PADDLE, DUMBASS_ **

Satisfied with the result, he walked to the bathroom and stuck it to the mirror, where he’d see it in the morning before his shower. He nodded decisively to himself and decided it was high time for bed. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue borrowed from Tome-Wan, although it doesn’t necessarily correspond identically in the timeline ♥

“Margot visited me last night.” Will said, apropos of nothing, as he leaned against the side of Hannibal’s desk while the man sketched something or other. Will hadn’t bothered to look, knowing that Hannibal preferred to show him finished products, as close to flawless as he’d allow. 

 

“Did she?”

 

“I think she was trying to seduce me.” 

 

“You’re not sure?” 

 

Will thought he heard the faintest trace of amusement, but he couldn’t be sure. “No. I informed her I didn’t have the right parts for her...proclivities. She didn’t stay long.” 

 

A faint twitch of lips. “I see.” 

 

It appeared that Hannibal wasn’t going to say anything further, and Will wasn’t even entirely sure why he’d brought it up to begin with. It’d been a few days since he’d disposed of the bone suit, and with it, a great deal of stress had also diminished. He felt considerably lighter, and more open to pointless conversation, apparently.

 

He was about to say something to change the subject but Hannibal beat him to it. 

 

“You seem to be making a habit of coming to me whenever you are beset by romantic overtures.” Hannibal observed. 

 

Will arched an eyebrow, sarcasm writ in every plane of his body. “Yeah? You planning on dating Margot next, then?” 

 

Hannibal leveled him with a look that was part amusement, part consternation. “I assure you my relationship with Alana is entirely independent of your own history with her.” 

 

Will snorted disbelievingly. “Sure, Hannibal.” He patronized. “How does that work, anyway?” 

 

“What are you referring to, Will?” 

 

“How can you be in a relationship based entirely on lies?” Will asked, genuinely curious now. “Is she really that great in bed?” 

 

Hannibal glanced at him, expression inscrutable. “Crass, Will.” He chastised.

 

“No, really. It’s not sustainable, and you know it.” Will pressed. 

 

Hannibal shrugged, “It’s a convenient distraction.” 

 

Will felt irrationally angry for a moment on Alana’s behalf before he considered Hannibal’s words for a moment. “For you or for her?” 

 

This earned him a slight crinkling of the corners of Hannibal’s eyes as he nodded approvingly. “Seduction is useful in keeping the seduced pliant and agreeable. Blind to the reality that would shatter the illusion they would like to cling to.”

 

Will frowned a moment. “Does she...actually care for you?” He asked. 

 

“You needn’t sound so surprised, Will.” 

 

Will rolled his eyes. “Not what I meant.” 

 

Hannibal watched him a moment, “You’re concerned for her feelings.” He surmised. “She’s a grown woman, Will, and I have not fostered any feelings or illusions of permanency.” He pointed out. 

 

Will nodded, feeling a bit foolish. “I guess your lifestyle isn’t really suited to...permanence.” He said, turning away from Hannibal to pace along the bookshelves, needing something to occupy him.

 

He heard the leather of Hannibal’s chair creak softly as he sat up fully. 

 

“Is yours, Will?” 

 

He shrugged. “Maybe? I don’t know. My solitude is by default, not design.”

 

“You are not afraid of commitment, if the sheer amount of canine companions is anything to go by.” 

 

Will shook his head. “No, I’d probably be a serial monogamist if given the chance.” He agreed. “But dogs don’t care if you’re unstable or unsociable. They love you unconditionally.” 

 

“However, you are no longer unstable, Will.”

 

“Aren’t I?” 

 

“No.” Hannibal said simply, not bothering to look up from the pencil gliding smoothly over paper. 

 

Will sighed. “What makes you think that? I had encephalitis, not a change of personality.” 

 

Hannibal’s lips twitched in amusement. “Certainly not, Will. But you are coming into your own, I believe. The instability stems from a denial of self. Double guessing every action, every motive, even if subconsciously.”

 

That made sense. Of course it did. Of course, he’d reached the same conclusion with whiskey by fireside, but it was nice to have his conclusions reaffirmed by a medical professional, ‘professional’ being somewhat of a loose term. 

 

“I’m making a concentrated effort not to care as much.” Will smirked. The sticky note he’d left himself had been embarrassing in the clarity of morning, sounding more like a ranting lunatic than a deep philosophical shift in perspectives. 

 

“As good a place to start as any.” Hannibal agreed. “And if it helps grant you peace of mind, and clarity, then I am in full support.” 

 

Will nodded his thanks. 

 

“Are you prepared for tonight, Will?” Hannibal asked. 

 

“I’m ready.” Will confirmed. 

 

“Is your mind quiet, your heart steady?” 

 

“As much as can be expected.” The answer seemed to satisfy Hannibal, who turned back to his drawing.

 

Will couldn’t say that he was  _ looking forward _ to what they had planned, but there was a sense of anticipation that coursed through him. He wasn’t the same marble smooth calm that Hannibal exhibited, but Will was fairly certain that quality was unique almost entirely to Hannibal himself. 

 

Still, he wasn’t panicked, he wasn’t nervous. 

 

Hannibal sat up, smoothing the paper and gently blowing stray particles of graphite off of the high-quality paper he used to sketch. The movement caught Will’s attention and he walked back over to look.

 

“Finished?” He asked. Hannibal seemed to have a moment of hesitation where it wasn’t clear if he’d let Will see the finished product or not, but the moment soon passed and Hannibal slid the paper closer for Will’s perusal. 

“Achilles lamenting the death of Patroclus.” Hannibal explained. 

 

Will was impressed, he always was with Hannibal’s art, in all its forms. Even if sometimes, like in this case, it bore a rather uncanny resemblance to him. Alright, so technically he wasn’t sure, Patroclus might have had dark curly hair as well, but there was nothing remotely Greek about that nose, and experience had taught him that there were no such things as coincidences where Hannibal was concerned. 

 

“Whenever he’s mentioned in the Iliad, Patroclus is defined by his empathy.” Hannibal continued, and whoop, there it was.  

 

Will raised an eyebrow, “He became Achilles on the field of war; he died for him there, wearing Achilles’ armor.”

 

“He did.” Hannibal agreed. “Hiding and revealing identities is a constant theme throughout the Greek epics.” 

 

“As are battle-tested friendships.” Will pointed out. 

 

“Achilles wished all Greeks would die so that he and Patroclus could conquer.” Hannibal said, eyes upturned to meet Will’s own. It was unnerving, the depth of emotion he could see in his eyes, but unable to identify any singular one. “Took divine intervention to bring them down.” Hannibal finished with a small, private smile. 

 

“I don’t think divinity has much of a place in our lives, Hannibal.” 

 

“Does it not?” He countered. “Is darkness any less divine than the light, Will?” Hannibal said, watching him carefully.

 

“If you’re comparing us to divinity, then you’re also implying that we will be our own downfall.” Will stated.

 

Hannibal hummed softly, “Divinity makes its own destiny, Will. Outside of the constructs of man.”

 

Arrogant bastard. He’d make a good god based on that alone. Hades, maybe. Will idly wondered what god he’d be, but came up short, mind wandering instead to the logistics of petting a three-headed dog when each head wanted equal attention. 

 

“Where did you go, Will?” Hannibal asked after a moment of watching him lost in thought. 

 

Will huffed an embarrassed laugh. “It’s stupid. Inconsequential.” 

 

“Nevertheless, I would love to hear it.” Hannibal insisted, firelight dancing off of his fathomless eyes. 

 

“I considered you as Hades, and got distracted from trying to imagine which god I’d be.” He admitted. 

 

“Distracted by what, Will?” 

 

“Trying to figure out how to pet Cerberus without losing an arm.” Will said with a grin that Hannibal returned, albeit mostly with his eyes. 

 

“Interesting that you should place yourself in the underworld as well.” Hannibal mused. “It is abundantly clear to me which deity you would be.” 

 

Will narrowed his eyes, not liking the mischief that colored Hannibal’s tone. It never really boded well for him. “And which would that be?” He asked, despite himself. 

 

“Persephone, of course.” Hannibal stated matter-of-factly, much to Will’s irritation. Was it truly irritation, though, that colored his cheeks? Surely it was only a flush from the fireplace he stood so near to. 

 

\-----------

 

Night had fallen hours ago, and now it was closer to daylight than not. Will thought he ought to feel nervous or anxious, but all he felt was a calm surety as he walked beside a plastic suit-clad Hannibal, who stopped at the hotel room registered to Freddie Lounds’ name. Will had managed to steal a maintenance key card from a hotel custodian (now lying unconscious in a supply room), and he opened the door easily. The first clue that something was amiss was that security door latch was not engaged, something that surely Freddie would not have neglected. 

 

Sure enough, the room was empty, and further inspection showed that she had taken everything with her. Will sighed in frustration. 

 

“Yes, I must agree with you, Will. This is...unfortunate.” Hannibal said with annoyance. 

 

“She knew we were coming.” Will said.

 

Hannibal nodded in agreement. “You mentioned Jack was going to approach her with his plan. Perhaps she made a blind leap in a lucky direction.” 

 

Will shrugged. “Wouldn’t surprise me.” He said, rifling through drawers for any clues while Hannibal observed the room at large. “She probably worried that Jack’s plan to fake her death wouldn’t be as safe as he proposed.” 

 

“Miss Lounds has never trusted you.” Hannibal smirked. 

 

“Oh, the feeling is mutual.” Will sneered, growing annoyed when his searches yielded nothing. “Okay, so she ran.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I think it’s safe to say she’s probably out of the area completely, or laying so low that it’d be near impossible to find her.” 

 

“I agree, Will. She has escaped us temporarily, but do not fret, she cannot run indefinitely.” 

 

Will nodded slowly. “Alright, well what now?” He asked, wondering if murder was completely off the table for the night now, and then he wondered what it said about him that the thought disappointed him. 

 

Hannibal hummed softly in thought, “Well, there is currently an unconscious custodian sitting in a closet who might be able to identify you.” He suggested. 

 

Will shrugged, “Not nearly as poetic, but I suppose he’ll do.” 

 

“Indeed he shall.” 

 

It took merely a moment to go and retrieve the man, still knocked out cold, and haul him back to Freddie’s room. According to the records, she wasn’t scheduled to check out for about a week yet, which meant that by the time the body was found, the time of death would be estimated down to days, rather than hours or anything else more specific. 

 

Hannibal propped the man up on a chair in the center of the room. “What shall we do then, Will, given that our intended target has escaped us?” 

 

The words, the deliberate use of ‘we’ and ‘our’ and ‘us’ struck a nerve within Will. A sense of pride swelled within him, and he felt a moment of disgust with himself for being so expertly manipulated. The more he thought about it, though, his outrage was little more than a token protest, a last-ditch effort to heap recriminations upon himself for his decision. 

 

He flicked open his knife, circling the man as he considered how to display him.  _ What was his design?  _

 

“...his only fault was existing at the wrong place...in the wrong time...” He murmured under his breath. Hannibal remained silent, allowing him to think out loud. “...inconvenient...meaningless...unfortunate...” 

 

The man began to rouse, his respiration speeding up and his eyes beginning to flutter open. That wouldn’t do at all. 

 

Will stopped behind him, ran his fingers from the back of the man’s head to the front, combing through his hair. It wasn’t tender, it was proprietary. His hand curled around the man’s throat, feeling for his trachea, feeling the pulse beneath his fingers that would soon stutter to a halt. With that expectation in mind, he squeezed. Firm and unrelenting, he dug his fingers harshly into the man’s throat. The man’s body jolted, limbs flailing to dislodge Will, but Will didn’t flinch, holding tight even as the man’s body reflexively fought for oxygen. 

 

Will held the man’s head close to him, dodging his clawing fingers and spasming arms. After a moment, the man managed to tip himself out of the chair, legs kicking out wildly. Will merely followed him to the ground, keeping the pressure steady as the man’s eyes began to roll back into his head. He struggled for what felt like hours, but was only a few minutes. Will held on placidly, glancing up to meet Hannibal’s approving eyes. 

 

Will felt the man’s pulse, once strong and steady, now light and erratic, desperately trying to pump what little oxygen was left in the body to the places that most needed it. It wasn’t long before the man’s heart pumped no longer. “Well done, Will.” Hannibal said approvingly. 

 

Will couldn’t help the pleased smile that slipped out at Hannibal’s praise. He wondered what display he could offer to Hannibal,  _ The Chesapeake Ripper _ , that he would consider worthy. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind now that this had nothing to do with Freddie or revenge. This was person, intimate, between him and Hannibal. Hannibal, who was watching him carefully, eyes dancing and proud, observing Will with all the reverence and awe he had never seen directed at him before. Certainly not to this extent. 

 

Will had honored Randall as his first kill. But that was self-defense, and Will knew that Hannibal didn’t really see it as his first kill. Not really. So how could Will honor Hannibal with his first kill? How could he create a display that honored them both? Something special, just for them, a courtship. 

 

Will had a few ideas. 

 

He looked away from Hannibal then, moving around the body and hauling it up onto the bed in a sitting position before undressing it with some difficulty. Will couldn’t separate the man he’d been from the cadaver he now was, nor would he want to, and this realization, that he was capable of this...Will promised himself he would analyze it later. He had a tableaux to create. 

 

Will started by skinning the man’s face, accepting the offered scalpel that Hannibal handed him wordlessly. When the sheet of skin was removed, Will set it aside for the time being. Then he carved into the man’s chest, a vertical incision down the sternum. Hannibal passed him a pair of pruning shears to use to separate the ribs when he asked if Hannibal had a tool for the job. The answer was, as always, yes. 

 

It was a messy process, and the blood soaked into the mattress and Will’s clothing. He’d wisely chosen clothing he didn’t mind throwing out afterwards. Although he was fairly certain that Hannibal would be burning them. 

 

He pried the man’s ribs apart, the right side further than the left to be able to reach his heart properly. The organs were heavier than Will expected, still blood-warm, although that was soon to change. He extracted the heart carefully, setting it aside as well. 

 

Hannibal passed Will the fishing wire when prompted and Will started on the most important part of the display. The man’s left hand was positioned so that his fingers pulled his ribcage apart, exposing the cavity where his heart had been. Will trussed up the right arm in a way that kept it bent at the elbow, palm up and open, a surface upon which to put his heart, which was also secured with a red ribbon (where Hannibal had acquired a ribbon, Will didn’t ask; he assumed Hannibal carried around all manner of theatrical touches for his murders). Finally, Will peeled the scalp off of the man, baring the blood streaked white of his skull. The excess skin was discarded into the same pile that held the man’s clothing, and instead Will pulled the previously set aside face over the top of the man’s head. It was a surprisingly suitable fit, and Will pulled back a moment to look his work over. 

 

“Interesting choice, Will.” Hannibal observed, “An offering, from a dual-faced man.” 

 

Will’s stomach clenched. That...hadn’t quite been what he’d intended. 

 

Hannibal sensed his discomfort and smiled reassuringly. “It was not a criticism, Will. We all wear many faces in our time. The important part of your offering is that, if you’d notice, the faces are the same. You merely have peeled off the superficial layer, allowing your inner self to shine.” Hannibal interpreted. “An offering of heart and truth simultaneously. Thank you, Will.” 

 

Hannibal turned to face him fully, and Will was struck by the depths of emotion he saw in Hannibal’s face and he knew it was reflected in his own. 

 

“Hannibal...” 

 

Hannibal approached closer, a single gloved hand cupping Will’s face, the scent of latex mixing with his expensive aftershave. “Beautiful boy...” He praised. “Even more ethereal than I had imagined you to be in such a moment.” Hannibal’s voice was pitched low, private, so much so that Will wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t just imagining it. 

 

“Hann-” Little more than a whisper, trailing off into an exhalation. 

 

“A dark angel come to reap the souls of the unworthy...” Hannibal whispered, his face close enough for Will to feel the ambient heat of his skin against his own, the ghost of his breath against his face. Will was about to protest, to criticize Hannibal’s as usual over-the-top metaphors, but Hannibal managed to effectively derail any train of thought he might have had with the way he pressed his lips to Will’s. 

 

Will froze, certain that he must be hallucinating once more. Surely...surely he was making up the way that Hannibal’s  _ (smooth, soft, plush)  _ lips pressed against his own. Will gasped softly, reflexively, and Hannibal took advantage of the opportunity, teasing his tongue between Will’s parted lips. A small sound like a whimper escaped Will, and he blushed in embarrassment. Hannibal made an answering sound that was more of a rumble in his chest than an exhalation, and the sound made Will’s knees feel weak. Hannibal was tasting him, twining his tongue inside of his mouth, and the knowledge that a part of Hannibal was  _ inside of him _ was too much to take, Will trembling delicately as his own tongue moved against Hannibal’s. 

 

Hannibal’s mouth was molten heat: hot, slick silk opened to him. Will ran his tongue over teeth,  _ a cannibal’s teeth _ , he reminded himself, but the thought only sent a frisson of pleasure tingling down his spine. Danger and pleasure melded together in Will’s mind, and he wondered distantly how he’d ever be able to visit a crime scene again without automatically associating the smell of blood and viscera with Hannibal this way. The thought made him whimper a laugh pitifully against Hannibal’s mouth, swallowed and muffled by the way Hannibal licked into his mouth, devouring him entirely. 

 

With a final teasing flick of his tongue, and a lingering suck to his bottom lip, Hannibal pulled away from Will. “There is work yet to be done,  _ Mylimasis _ .” 

 

Will swayed a little unsteadily on his feet as Hannibal drew away, embarrassed at having lost himself so completely in the moment. Hannibal was right, of course, this was not the time nor place for that kind of thing. The kind of thing that Will hardly wanted to talk about, let alone analyze in any capacity. He knew for a fact that now that the spell of the moment had been broken, it would not be regained. He tamped down on the disappointment that thought caused and got to work. 

 

Hannibal handed him a duffel bag with the spare clothes that he’d packed for this exact purpose and Will went into the bathroom to change, locking the door demurely behind him. He stripped efficiently, making sure not to leave fingerprints on any surfaces and wiping them off where it was unavoidable. His soiled clothes were stuffed into a trash bag, and the blood that lingered on his skin was wiped away with disinfectant cloths which were tossed in the same plastic bag as his clothes when they were soiled. 

 

By the time he emerged from the bathroom, Hannibal had already gathered the things they’d brought with them. Will noticed the man’s throat suspiciously wiped of blood and he shot Hannibal a questioning look. 

 

“Latent fingerprints.” Hannibal explained. “Not likely to remain intact beneath the blood, but I would rather not take such chances.” 

 

Will nodded, of course he should have thought of that. Hannibal then walked to the thermostat, turning the air conditioner up to its maximum setting. This made sense, too. Time of death would be harder to predict with the body losing heat more rapidly, and it would slow decomposition, so it was unlikely that unfavorable stenches would alert anyone to anything amiss in the room. If everything went to plan, the man wouldn’t be discovered until the day Freddie was supposed to return. 

 

Will had a moment to imagine a scenario in which Freddie returned to the room to find the scene and realize that she narrowly escaped a similar fate. It was, unsurprisingly, an amusing series of thoughts and it brought a small smirk to Will’s lips. 

 

Hannibal, as if reading Will’s thoughts (and he wasn’t entirely sure that Hannibal hadn’t done  _ just that _ ), said, “It will hurt more, perhaps, that she lost the opportunity for exclusive photographs.” 

 

Will snorted lightly. “More than the knowledge that there’s nowhere for her to run or hide?” He asked. “I’d like to post exclusive pictures of her own crime scene on her website when we finally do catch up to her.” 

 

This pronouncement seemed to greatly amuse Hannibal, because he smiled so genuinely at Will that he felt his knees grow weak once more. “Of course, dear Will. A fitting display for all her readers to see.” To see that amount of pride and admiration directed at him made Will feel almost light-headed with the intensity. 

 

Still, he had nary a moment longer to consider it before Hannibal was shepherding him out of the room, hanging the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the outside doorknob as they left. Will wondered what was next. He was filled with nervous, pent-up energy, and desperately needed an outlet. 

 

“I would suggest you return to shower at my home, which is already equipped with the proper cleansers and chemicals you would require.” Hannibal suggested smoothly. Will wondered if the offer was more than it appeared. Just to shower? Would he want to join him, make sure he was cleaned thoroughly enough? And then what? 

 

The image of Hannibal standing against a bathroom counter staring at Will, shower curtain (or door, did his shower have a door?) wide open as he openly observed Will clean himself. In his mind’s eye, Hannibal not only watched him, but he directed him.  _ That’s it, Will, apply firmer pressure as you rub yourself... _ Will colored as his imaginings drifted away from him, blinking once to try to banish the images from his mind before they caused any unwanted physical reactions. He remembered that Hannibal had asked him a question. 

 

“Uh, yeah okay.” He agreed. “I can drive home afterwards, I’d rather not impose.” He said awkwardly. 

 

Hannibal shook his head in contradiction. “You are never an imposition, Will. Please, I have a number of guest rooms you may make use of.” He offered. “Perhaps I can tempt you with the offer of breakfast in a few hours?” Hannibal suggested, his countenance arranged into pleasant hospitality and Will felt guilty denying him this. 

 

“Alright...if you’re sure.” Will said, with lingering trepidation. 

 

“Quite sure.” Hannibal insisted. 

 

They loaded their items in Hannibal’s car, and he drove them to his house, just as the first rays of sun began to light up the sky in a gentle blush. It seemed too innocent, too pure for what they’d done. Will supposed that once it would have bothered him, but now he only had the faintest twinge where he supposed what was left of his conscience survived. 

 

When they arrived at his house, Hannibal pointed out the guest bedroom and then led Will to the guest bathroom, already equipped with the products he would need to remove all forensic evidence. “Please, feel free to make use of anything you require.” Hannibal insisted, and left Will to it. Will shut the door in his wake and looked around the bathroom with interest. There was a bathrobe hanging from the door in dark blue and Will couldn’t help but touch it, marveling at the softness of the fabric. 

 

He showered efficiently, far too tired now to want to linger under the hot spray of water. Will scrubbed himself down, making sure to be as thorough as possible, and when he was done, he slipped the robe on without a second thought. It felt decadent against his skin and he took a moment to enjoy the sensation of being pampered, wrapped in clouds, before he emerged from the bathroom. 

 

Will shuffled over to the bedroom, hardly taking in anything beside the large queen bed that called to him in sultry tones. Will pulled the covers back, slipping in immediately. The sheets were high-quality cotton, that much he could tell, but aside from that, Will just appreciated the crisp coolness of the fabric. He was asleep almost the second his head hit the pillow. 

 

How long he slept, Will wasn’t sure. When he woke up, the clothes he’d changed out of and left balled up on the floor had been washed and folded, now placed on an armchair in the corner of the room. 

 

He was still wearing the bathrobe, but it was mostly undone as he’d moved during his sleep. Will stretched luxuriously, soft sheets sliding intimately against sensitive skin. Will rocked his hips gently, relishing in the feeling of the cloth sliding over his morning erection. 

 

It wasn’t unusual for him to wake up hard, but it seemed more illicit somehow, vulgar almost. He was in Hannibal’s house...Hannibal had kissed him, and he’d kissed back. And then they hadn’t brought it up again. Will couldn’t help but wonder if Hannibal would, or would they mutually ignore it, pretending it hadn’t happened?

 

Will’s hand slipped across his hips, pressing down on himself with the heel of his hand, breath hitching. Quiet. He had to be quiet. Was he really going to do this? A swipe of his thumb against the head of his cock, already starting to gather moisture. Yes. Yes he was. 

 

Will tugged his bottom lip into his mouth as his heart sped up with each tantalizing stroke. Hannibal could, theoretically, walk in at any moment. He had waltzed right in to wash and then bring him his clothes, he could walk in again. His cock dribbled against his hand and he squeezed, pumping flesh slickened with his own precome as he shut his eyes tight, then opened them as he watched the bedroom door warily. 

 

What would he do if Hannibal walked in? His cock twinged with arousal, jumping in his grip.  _ Oh god _ . Would Hannibal chastise him? Will could just about hear his voice in his mind, dulcet recriminations. _ Vulgar, Will. I simply cannot tolerate such behavior when I have been nothing but courteous to you. _

 

_ Oh god, oh god. _ Will pumped himself faster, tugging almost harshly, slowing only when the sounds of wet flesh grew too loud in the quiet room. A part of him wondered what it said about him that the humiliation Hannibal caused from within his own mind turned him on so badly. He didn’t want to analyze it, but he knew Hannibal would. Oh god, he would.  _ Shameless. Found out and yet, your hand hasn’t slowed, Will. One would think you did this with the express purpose of being caught. What did you imagine would happen, Will?  _

 

Will panted, his cock leaking freely now. He imagined he could hear Hannibal’s footsteps outside his door, growing ever closer. Even if he stopped now, there would be no mistaking his leaking erection, exposed to the air of the room, nor the flush that spread down his face his neck and across his chest. The sound solidified into something outside his mind, and he froze for one terrible second, before he realized it was the sound of his own frantic heartbeat pounding in his ears. 

 

God, he just wanted to come. Hannibal was going to know, but he didn’t care anymore. He needed it so badly. He recalled their kiss, the warmth of Hannibal’s mouth, and he dared imagine what it would feel like over his cock. Hannibal’s eyes as they would look up at him from his lap, his sculpted lips wrapped around his cock, mouth tonguing at the head. 

 

It was hardly a moment later that he came all over his hand, trembling pulses leaving him feeling completely drained and exhausted. Will lay there for a few minutes, catching his breath and trying to silence the judgemental voice he could hear in his mind. His own this time, rather than Hannibal’s. Christ, what had he been thinking? He was in Hannibal’s  _ house _ . Will looked around the room for something he could use to wipe himself clean. Miraculously he had managed not to soil Hannibal’s sheets or the bathrobe, at least not that he could tell. There was, thankfully, a box of tissues on the dresser across the room, and Will rose awkwardly, walking over to grab a couple. 

 

When he was mostly clean, Will dressed and made his bed. It wasn’t as immaculate as it had been before, but it certainly showed effort on his part. He eventually made it downstairs after a bit of a crisis where he kept panicking that Hannibal would surely know what he’d done. Still, the smell of breakfast was wafting up the stairs, and he was more hungry than he was embarrassed. 

 

He walked into the kitchen to see Hannibal at the stove, dressed in loose pajama pants and a soft-looking sweater. It was so incongruous, how soft he looked, hair loose and free of any products. When Hannibal turned to greet him, Will was struck by how vulnerable and boyish he looked. “Good morning, Will. Or afternoon, rather, I should say.” He smiled. “I trust you slept well?” 

 

Will couldn’t help but wonder if the words contained any form of innuendo or implication, but Hannibal merely continued smiling at him calmly. “Yeah, thanks for letting me borrow a room. I knocked out immediately, I think.” Will said, returning the smile hesitantly. “What about you?” 

 

Hannibal nodded, “I’m glad to hear it. I slept well, myself. I only woke a couple hours ago, in fact. Breakfast will be done soon, are you hungry?” 

 

Will inched closer to where Hannibal was working to catch a glimpse of what was cooking. It looked like some form of omelette. “Yeah, I’m starving, actually.” He admitted ruefully. “Any word about the uh, the hotel?” Will asked. 

 

Hannibal shook his head, “No. I don’t expect there to be, either. Not for a few days at least” He said, serving the plates and taking them both into the dining room. Will followed, noticing that it had already been laid out with silverware and glasses, a pitcher of fresh orange juice sat in the center. 

 

He took his place as Hannibal set his plate down in front of him. “Thank you, it looks delicious.” He complimented, waiting for Hannibal to be seated before he took a bite. He couldn’t help the tiny pleased sound he made as he tasted his mouthful. It was in fact, delicious. The egg light and fluffy, the meat (which could be ham, but probably not, given Hannibal’s track record. Will thought he ought to be more bothered by the prospect) was lightly salted and the perfect flavor and consistency to flatter the rest of the omelette. The rest of the vegetables and cheese that had been added only improved the taste, individual flavors blending in a mouthwatering combination. 

 

“Thank you, Will. I do enjoy preparing food for those that can fully appreciate it.” 

 

Will thought that was probably a cannibalism reference. Although rather more tame than his usual fare. He considered asking Hannibal who they were eating, but he supposed the answer didn’t really matter. It wasn’t likely that he knew the person, whoever they were. 

 

“Well I’ve never turned down your cooking.” Will said, raising his egg-laden fork for emphasis.

 

“No...you haven’t, have you?” Hannibal said pensively, watching Will carefully. “Does it truly not bother you? Give you a moment’s pause?” 

 

So...they were actually going to talk about this. Interesting. If he had been planning on turning Hannibal in, this would be a pivotal moment, but as it was, it was still fairly significant. The question seemed pregnant with meaning, so Will set his fork down as he chewed, taking a sip of orange juice as he considered. 

 

“I suppose it might have, when I first found out.” Will allowed. “But can I be completely honest with you, Hannibal?” He asked. 

 

“Of course, Will.” Hannibal said, leaning forward minutely. His face a composed mask of polite interest, but Will knew better. Will knew he was far more interested in what Will would divulge than he wanted to let on. 

 

“When the fever passed and I could see clearly, it wasn’t the murder that bothered me. It wasn’t your choice of...dinner ingredients. It was the way you set me up.” Will said seriously. “You toyed with me, Hannibal. You lied to me, made me question my own sanity, and that...that’s what hurt.” Will felt himself grow equal parts angry and hurt as he remembered. “I don’t let people in, Hannibal. I despise your profession. I thought you were my friend...and you used me.” 

 

Will stopped as he felt his throat constrict with emotion and he had to look away before he started crying. That was just what he’d need, to get all teary when he’s trying to make a point. Unlike Hannibal, Will had never liked emotional manipulation, and he’d sooner harm a dog than try and manipulate someone with something as underhanded as tears. 

 

Hannibal was silent for a long moment, the silence stretching uncomfortably. Eventually Hannibal cleared his throat and spoke. “I...did not anticipate you, Will. You were growing too close to seeing me for who I am, and I acted preemptively.” 

 

It was probably the closest that Will was going to get to an apology if he was completely honest with himself. It was better than what he expected, which had been nothing. Still, the truth was painful in its own way. 

 

“Although Will, if I hurt you so, what keeps you in my presence?” Hannibal asked, sounding genuinely baffled despite his efforts not to. 

 

It was a far easier question to answer, in Will’s opinion. “Because I can’t and don’t want to imagine a world without you. Dead or captive...” Will shook his head. “It’s unconscionable.” He sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. “I won’t pretend to know what the hell I’m doing. I just know that wherever you are, I’ll be. It’s as simple as that.” 

 

Will wished it was truly that simple, but he supposed that for now it would have to do. Hannibal stared off at some far-away point as he considered Will’s words. Will ate the rest of his breakfast quietly, allowing Hannibal the time to process his words. 

 

“Together or not at all...” Hannibal mused. 

 

“Together, then?” Will suggested. 

 

“Together.” Hannibal agreed, his smile genuine, yet a little strained.


	3. Chapter 3

Pages fluttered free from heavy, leather bound journals as they were dropped from atop the mezzanine. Will picked another up, flipping through it absently as he walked over to the fireplace, already filled with the ashes of the countless volumes that preceded the one Will now held in his hands.

 

Hannibal’s writing was tight and elegant, whether he was penning invitations or jotting down notes. Will felt a fleeting sense of envy. Most of the notes were about people and conversations he knew nothing about. Still, one page caught his attention, a mention of cheese, seemingly incongruous. He stopped to read the page and huffed out a laugh.

 

“Did you have a stalker, Hannibal?” He asked with a smile.

 

Hannibal paused in his work and glanced over. “Ah yes, Franklin. His passing was...unfortunate.”

 

Will frowned, thinking back to the case. Tobias budge...the string shop...the men lying dead in Hannibal’s office. It had been so long since he’d thought about that case, so early still in his acquaintance with Hannibal. He remembered feeling so sorry for Hannibal, and protective. If only he’d known then what he did now.

 

Details seemed to coalesce before his eyes as new information slotted into place. The entire crime scene, Hannibal himself.

 

“Oh my god.” Will exclaimed, unable to stop the words from coming. “You killed him, didn’t you?” He snorted, more amused than anything.

 

Hannibal offered him a little smirk. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

 

“Don’t even. Of course you did.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You knew about Tobias before. You knew, and you sent me there anyway.”

 

Hannibal inclined his head, something like remorse passing over his face. Almost, but not quite. “I must admit that was the first instance in which I truly felt protective of you. I believed you had died, and the thought was...more unpleasant than I’d anticipated.”

 

Will’s eyebrows rose. “You sound like it wasn’t your intention for him to kill me.”

 

Hannibal shook his head minutely. “No, Will. I felt very early on that if you were to die, it would be by my hand alone. I believed you would emerge victorious, and you did. It was immensely dissatisfying to believe for a moment that you had not.”

 

Will supposed he ought to be flattered. Hannibal’s compliments were not always the kind you felt you ought to be accepting. Rather than backhanded, his compliments were more like...pomegranate seeds. Beautiful and enticing, until you realized all they’d done was bind you to his will.

 

Will turned towards the fireplace, cheeks heating at the reminder of Hannibal’s words the last time he’d been in his office.  _ Persephone _ . He wasn’t. Was he? And more importantly, why did Hannibal keep implying he was the female half of the relationship?  _ What relationship? _

 

It wasn’t even the implication of femininity that bothered him. What bothered him was the unshakeable feeling that he was being toyed with. Why was it that Hannibal kept doing this? Did he know what Will had done in his guest bedroom? This was entirely the wrong place to be thinking about this. But surely that was the most logical explanation, right? He knew, and was trying to goad Will into bringing it up first.

 

But then there was their kiss. Will felt a molten heat pool in his lower belly as he thought about it. He fed the journal to the fire a few pages at a time as he remembered it in excruciating detail. It was ridiculous. Surely he had the right to bring it up, to make Hannibal discuss it, right? What was the worst that could happen? Well, Hannibal could say it was a mistake...that it’d never happen. It would hurt, but Will thought he could deal with it if that was the case.

 

Will finished with the journal, turning back to collect another. He noticed the way that Hannibal was watching him curiously and he turned away, keeping his eyes turned down.

 

“You have become very quiet, Will.” Hannibal observed. “Have I said something to upset you?”

 

Where did Will even begin? “Just lost in thought.” Will said absently, hoping that Hannibal wouldn’t press the issue. As if there was a single chance of that. Honestly.

 

“And what thoughts plague your mind, Will?” Hannibal asked, tossing down the last of the journals before climbing down the ladder and rejoining Will with a few volumes in his hands.

 

Will tried not to visibly react to the way that he now felt he was being caged in, but it was a close thing.

 

“The future.” He settled for a half-truth. “I’m considering what our life will be like when we leave.”

 

Hannibal shot him a look like he knew Will was dissembling, but he humored him anyway. “I have not yet decided where to take you first.” Hannibal said. “Florence, certainly. Palermo. Paris.” He suggested.

 

Will’s eyebrows rose. “So an extended vacation, then?” He assumed. “I just...I’m having trouble visualizing it.” He admitted.

 

Hannibal’s brow furrowed, in either irritation or worry or both. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what exactly it is you would like to hear, Will.”

 

Will shrugged, “I don’t think I know what I want to hear, either. I just...it’s odd to imagine living together. We’re very different people, Hannibal.”

 

“Identically different.” He agreed.

 

Will shook his head, “It’s more than that, though. New identities, new homes? Will we get jobs? Normal, mundane jobs?  What am I going to do with my dogs, Hannibal?”

 

Hannibal’s expression seemed understanding. “You would prefer less ambiguity, then.” He surmised. “I have prepared identities for us, yes, along with residences. Employment is, of course, optional. I have the means to support us indefinitely. It may, however, be a matter of pride or boredom for you, and as such, you are certainly free to seek employment.” Hannibal said.

 

“As for your dogs...I don’t believe I would be able to smuggle seven dogs out of the country. That would be distinctive, even if your dogs weren’t already well-known by government officials.” Hannibal pointed out. “However, perhaps one or two would be acceptable.”

 

Will was actually relieved. He’d assumed Hannibal would insist he leave them all behind. Certainly they were all important to him, they felt like family. But it was a weight lifted off of his shoulders that he wouldn’t have to be parted from all of them. Sensing his relief, Hannibal placed a hand on his shoulder. The gesture was supposed to be comforting, but more than anything, it was distracting. Will could think of little else than the heat and the weight of Hannibal’s hand pressed against him. A single layer of fabric between that hand and his skin. It gave him goosebumps just thinking about it.

 

“What else troubles you, Will?” Hannibal asked, his voice now pitched lower.

 

Will swallowed, his throat catching on some invisible lump.

 

“You, Hannibal.” He said quietly. “I don’t know what you’re doing.”

 

If Hannibal was surprised, he didn’t show it.

 

“In what respect, Will?” He asked, voice even and smooth as velvet.

 

“It feels like you’re toying with me, but I don’t know to what end.” Will admitted, voice barely over a whisper.

 

“Are you sure that is what I’m doing, Will?” Hannibal wondered.

 

Will frowned, “What else could you be doing? Your words, your actions. They’re conflicting, and I don’t know what you want from me.”

 

Hannibal hummed, still close to Will, hand still on his shoulder, but now squeezing gently.

 

“I want a great many things from you, Will. A great many. But I will take no more than you are willing to give.”

 

Was that-? Was he-? Will’s head spun with the effort to piece apart Hannibal’s web of intentions and coercions.

 

“I...I don’t know.” Will answered, the only answer he could truly give.

 

Hannibal shifted behind him, now gripping each of his shoulders in his hands, his large, warm hands. Will’s spine straightened as he felt the warm puffs of Hannibal’s breath against the back of his neck. It felt like every nerve in his body was focused on Hannibal, attuned to his presence, the heat of his body.

 

“I know, Will. But you will.” Hannibal promised, and Will felt him press forward, nosing into the curls at the back of his head. Will didn’t quite hold his breath, but his respiration had slowed to shallow, measured breaths as he tried not to dislodge Hannibal with something as tedious as his breathing. He held himself completely still, partially because he was afraid Hannibal would move away, but also because he couldn’t quite decide if he wanted to press closer or further away.

 

“H-how can I know if I’m... _ willing _ ...if you won’t tell me what it is you want?” Will whispered, unsure Hannibal had even heard the words until he spoke.

 

“I do not believe you are ready, Will. It would discomfit you, I’m sure.” Hannibal whispered back, directly into his ear. This time Will did shiver, eyes fluttering closed as the additional sensory input became too much to bear. He pressed back slightly into Hannibal’s grip and Hannibal allowed it, hands sliding from shoulders to biceps, curling around the muscle that tensed in anticipation as his chest made contact with Will’s back.

 

“W-why don’t you let me judge that for myself?” Will countered, leaning into Hannibal’s weight, feeling the firm solidness against his back. Will wasn’t exactly  _ slight _ , but Hannibal was so much broader than he was, and he hadn’t really noticed it before, but now it was all he could think of. Oh, if those arms wrapped around him...

 

Will felt, more than heard, Hannibal’s low chuckle. “Perhaps I shall, when you are able to confront me properly, rather than resorting to furtive masturbation in a borrowed room.”

 

Will’s breath caught and he froze entirely, spine rigid and face heating in mortification even as he felt himself thicken in his pants, which only embarrassed him further. What was he even meant to answer?

 

It would have had more dramatic effect for Hannibal to retreat completely, leaving Will to sort out his humiliation, cold and alone, but he did no such thing. No, he stayed pressed up against Will, and continued to nose into the curls just behind his ear. Will felt him press a chaste kiss to the smooth skin behind the shell of his ear before speaking once more.

 

“It’s alright, Will. Was it the illicit nature of your activities that heightened you pleasure?” Hannibal purred in his ear. Just the way the word ‘pleasure’ rolled off his tongue felt lewd and obscene. “The knowledge that I might walk in at any moment?” He asked, and Will’s lips parted in a soft gasp.

 

It didn’t even matter how Hannibal knew this, it was enough that he did. His words, caressed by silken tongue and liquid accent, went straight to Will’s cock, now pressing painfully against his zipper. If Hannibal hadn’t noticed yet, it was because he hadn’t looked, not because of any discretion on Will’s part.

 

“God, Hannibal.” Will breathed. He wanted so badly to let go, to just let this, whatever this was, happen. But he still wasn’t sure Hannibal wasn’t just toying with him to get a rise. Still, he’d never been a coward. He leaned into Hannibal, an arm lifting to twist behind Hannibal’s head and tug him down closer. “Get over here.” He muttered as he brought their lips together.

 

Hannibal hummed a pleased sound, his hands drifting down to curl around Will’s waist as he kissed him back enthusiastically. Will noticed Hannibal was letting him lead the kiss, and that was fine. More than fine, actually, when he had Hannibal’s warm, pliant mouth to explore, tasting the flavors that made up his taste. Of course his natural taste would be as layered and refined as the finest wine. Anything less would be unconscionable.

 

After a moment, their lips parted and Will trailed little sucking kisses along the edge of his jaw while Hannibal ducked his head to suck on Will’s throat. It was overwhelming already, and Will’s eyes had fluttered shut so long ago, that he wasn’t even completely sure which part of Hannibal’s face he was kissing, just that he felt the beginnings of stubble under his lips and tongue.

 

Hannibal’s mouth on his throat was deliciously thrilling, however. With a single motion, he could easily tear out Will’s throat with his teeth...and that  _ really  _ shouldn’t be as arousing as he found it. Honestly.

 

But there wasn’t time to think about it, not when Hannibal’s palm, broad and warm, cupped him between his legs and Will’s knees almost gave out.

 

He gasped in surprise, mouth separating from Hannibal as he moaned softly, canting his hips into Hannibal’s hand, silently begging for more. Hannibal chuckled darkly, squeezing him hard, almost too hard to be pleasurable.

 

Will’s toes curled with pleasure as he raised on his tiptoes, leaning back against Hannibal, who was taking almost all of his weight now. Hannibal followed him, the pressure around his straining cock almost too much to bear.

 

“Hannibal...” He gasped, and Hannibal released him. Will couldn’t help the sound of disappointment he made as his cock lost the friction. However, his stomach tilted in giddy anticipation as Hannibal’s fingers,  _ dexterous, clever, surgeon’s fingers _ , began working on the buttons of Will’s shirt, starting at the hollow of his throat.

 

Will bared his neck, head lolling against Hannibal’s sturdy shoulder. His hands reached behind him searchingly, curling around the backs of Hannibal’s thighs and holding him close. Like this, Will could feel the doctor’s  _ very large _ erection pressing against his backside and he couldn’t help but grin as he pressed back against what felt like a very substantial length, pleased that he wasn’t the only one so affected.

 

Hannibal groaned, more of a rumble of his chest than an actual vocalized expression as he obligingly ground his hips against Will. He’d succeeded in parting Will’s shirt, now untucked and hanging at his sides wide open. Hannibal wasted no time in deftly flipping open his belt buckle and pulling the leather through the belt loops with an audible hiss that only made precome pool bubble from Will’s tip as he considered the variety of things that Hannibal could do with it.

 

As if sensing his thoughts, which really, it wouldn’t surprise Will at all if it turned out the man had supernatural abilities, Hannibal folded the belt in half and then tapped the front of Will’s thighs firmly, just enough to sting a little. Will hissed, more at the implication than the sensation itself.

 

“Tell me about your father, Will.” Hannibal said, almost out of nowhere, and Will immediately tried to move away, but Hannibal held him fast. “Did he spank you? Bend you over his knee?”

 

“Jesus...fuck, Hannibal.” Will complained, voice tight with arousal. “We’re not - we’re not doing this.” He insisted, but the way his voice wavered betrayed him.

 

“Did he use his belt, Will? Or his bare hand?” And with that Hannibal ran a hand between them to grasp one of Will’s cheeks firmly, almost cruelly, but the fabric of his pants prevented it from truly hurting.

 

Will shook his head in some last-ditch attempt at denial, but Hannibal was having none of it.

 

“I do expect an answer, Will. Communication is the cornerstone of relationships.” He pointed out, a little too smug.

 

“Is that -  _ ahh!  _ \- is that what you’d call this?” Will gasped as Hannibal’s hand returned to his cock, only to pinch through the fabric just beneath the head with startling accuracy.

 

“Yes. Although the boundaries appear to be shifting.” Hannibal said, rolling the head of his cock between his fingers, still trapped in the confines of his pants. It was almost too much and Will whimpered piteously, boneless in Hannibal’s arms.

 

“We...we don’t  _ have  _ any boundaries, Hannibal.” Will said, trying for snarky and missing by a mile, sounding more petulant than anything.

 

“Not entirely true, Will. Although I appreciate the sentiment.” Hannibal said simply.

 

It was difficult to concentrate, more so when Hannibal flicked open the button of his pants and carefully lowered the zipper. Oh god, this was actually happening. His balls already felt draw up tight and Hannibal hadn’t even touched his bare skin yet. He had a feeling that this was going to be over embarrassingly quickly.

 

“You still haven’t answered my question, Will.” Hannibal reminded him, and Will hadn’t forgotten, but he’d hoped to at least derail Hannibal’s train of thought. No such luck, not when Hannibal clearly had the monopoly on derailment.

 

“Yes...” He all but whispered, the sound nearly lost to the crackling of the fireplace. Hannibal rewarded his admission by tugging his pants down to his thighs where they slipped the rest of the way to the floor on their own, and then tugging the waistband of his boxers down and over his cock, tucking the elastic behind his balls, displaying him shamelessly. Will glanced down, cheeks blushing crimson at the image he presented... _ and Hannibal was still completely dressed _ .

 

“Yes what, Will?” Hannibal pressed, refusing to touch his aching, leaking cock at all. Just watching as it bobbed thick and full with blood, jutting from his body lewdly.

 

Will squeezed his eyes shut, staving off humiliated tears brought forth by the juxtaposition of Hannibal’s actions and his words. His actions were arousing, almost tender in nature. His words, they were cutting, exacting. He could, with a surgeon’s precision, find each of Will’s filthy, shameful little secrets, and he extracted them mercilessly. Will...didn’t want to know what it said about him that he loved it as much as he did.

 

“Yes...he spanked me.” Will admitted, knowing that Hannibal wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t relent until he’d pried free every morsel of information. Will didn’t mind making him work for it, though. Where would the fun be, otherwise?

 

Hannibal again rewarded him for his cooperation, this time with a full stroke from root to tip and back down again, squeezing on the upstroke and humming with satisfaction when Will’s cock dribbled onto his pristine hardwood floor.

 

“What did he use, Will?” Hannibal inquired, holding his hand steady at the base of his cock, grip loosened enough not to provide the friction Will craved, even if he thrusted in and out of the loose circle of his fist.

 

Will swallowed thickly, turning his face into the crook of Hannibal’s neck in an effort to hide his shame. Hannibal allowed it, and Will breathed in the spicy scent of his aftershave, the underlying musk, a scent he’d never realized he found comforting. By all rights, he shouldn’t; not after everything that happened. But it was soothing, and felt like... _ home _ . Which was something else he’d eventually have to think about in depth, but not now.

 

“...his belt...” Will said quietly, speaking into the fabric of Hannibal’s shirt.

 

He could feel Hannibal’s skin shifting into a pleased smile and his hand, so smooth and warm, pumped him slowly a few more times. This time he didn’t stop, working Will slowly but not giving him enough to be able to come. Will shuddered in his arms, both over and underwhelmed by the treatment. It was everything he wanted, and yet, not at all.

 

“Go on, Will.” Hannibal pried, once again proving the depths of his observational abilities. “How did he do it?”

 

Will whimpered, hips now rocking fervently between Hannibal’s hand, which was rapidly becoming slick with his precome, and Hannibal’s erection, which was now firmly pressed into the cleft of his ass, the fabric pushed against him, spreading him for Hannibal’s pleasure. The mere thought of Hannibal rutting against him, clothing between them or not, was enough to make his cock twitch in Hannibal’s grip.

 

“...over his knee...” Will added, voice low and muffled, not that Hannibal didn’t still hear every word. “...with my britches ‘round my knees...” He elaborated, arousal allowing the Louisiana accent he worked so hard to mask, bleed through.

 

Hannibal’s fist tightened around him and his hips jerked against Will’s rear, a low moan rumbling in his throat. Will’s fingers were fisted so tightly in the fabric of Hannibal’s trousers that he could barely feel them.

 

“And were you a messy boy, even then?” Hannibal asked, accent thick. He swiped a thumb against the weeping slit of Will’s cock to punctuate his question, and Will felt a rolling current of shame wash over him, melding with the pleasure and arousal until they were nigh indistinguishable from each other.

 

He hadn’t, of course, in answer to Hannibal’s question. His father’s punishments were nothing like this, and thank goodness for that. But in the haze of pleasure, it wasn’t hard to imagine himself bent over a knee (whose knee, he tried not to focus too hard on), ass upturned and bare, waiting for the sharp stings, followed by the dull throbbing of abused flesh. 

 

Hannibal stopped suddenly, perhaps sensing that Will was oh so close to finally coming. He pried Will’s hands free from where they gripped his pants and instead brought them up to the fireplace’s mantlepiece.

 

Will allowed himself to be moved, heat pooling low in his gut as he realized where this was going. His heart rate and respiration sped up as adrenaline flooded his body in anticipation. He knew what was coming, knew what Hannibal wanted to do to him. There was a tiny spark of fear. Not enough for him to truly protest, but just enough for him to ask. 

 

“If I told you to stop?”

 

He heard Hannibal pause in whatever he was doing. “I would stop.” He said.

 

“No negotiations? No consequences?” Will pressed, his voice serious, approaching anxious.

 

Hannibal smoothed a hand down his flank, the way you would calm a horse, which was something that Will ought to take exception to, rather than take comfort in.

 

“I would stop.” Hannibal repeated. “And I would not resent you for it.”

 

They would have to talk about it later, of course. They should have talked about it before, but this would suffice for now. Will nodded, hanging his head between his outstretched arms, feet shifting apart in acceptance of whatever Hannibal would bestow upon him.

 

There was no warning, just the sudden swish of leather through the air before it impacted with the smooth skin of his upper thighs a mere moment later. Will hissed through his teeth, surprised rather than in pain, although that was beginning to register as well. He barely had time to think about it before another blow landed, higher up.

 

Will moaned softly, cock leaking steadily now, dripping on the floor in a tacky mess. Hannibal wasn’t being gentle, and Will appreciated that. He liked that Hannibal didn’t treat him with kid gloves, if anything, he was rougher than he should be, but Will found he preferred that. He was a grown-ass man and he could handle himself.

 

Another blow against the middle of his ass, and Will clenched reflexively, absently wishing he had something to tighten around. He bent forward, exaggerating the curve of his back as he presented his vulnerable backside to Hannibal’s whims.

 

This earned him an appreciative hand caressing skin already red and bruising. Not split, though, Hannibal knew what he was doing. Will wondered how many people Hannibal had done this to before, to have become so  _ skilled _ , and found that it turned his stomach.  _ Hannibal was his _ . How dare anyone else have touched or been touched by someone whom they could not fully appreciate? No one would ever see Hannibal, know him, like Will did.

 

His thoughts were derailed by another sharp stripe of fire against his lower thighs, just beneath the first blow. The skin was so achingly delicate there, the dull heat that radiated only fueled the fire simmering inside him.

 

Then Hannibal’s hands were on him, soothing and caressing in one motion, and dragging blunt nails against tortured flesh in another. Will moaned and keened, rocking back on his heels towards Hannibal’s hands. One large palm settled at the small of his back and Will thought he knew what was coming next, and he moaned preemptively.

 

Hannibal didn’t disappoint, free hand raining down blows relentlessly, inflaming skin already swollen and raw. Will’s breath hitched, the tears running down his face going unnoticed as Hannibal beat him mercilessly, fast and hard, with hardly a second’s pause between each stroke.

 

Oh god, Will was going to come, he realized this now. Hannibal probably knew as well, was probably very self-satisfied about it, but Will didn’t care. He was going to come all over Hannibal’s fancy fucking fireplace just from being spanked and the thought alone brought him oh so close to the edge.

 

“More, Hannibal, oh god, more.” Will begged under his breath, desperate for the little bit more that would finally push him off of the edge.

 

A hand disappeared from his back, while another clawed at his skin roughly, which was almost,  _ almost  _ enough. Will heard a zipper, and then a dull thud against the floorboards and he tried to figure out what, exactly, Hannibal was doing, but then there were two hands that held him apart and a hot, wet tongue pressing against his entrance, and Will cried out in pleasured agony.

 

It was filthy and wrong and oh god, so so good. Hannibal licking and tonguing at him like he was a feast to be devoured and just like that, Will was at the edge of his orgasm. Still, he needed more, desperate and needy, and coiled tight with pleasure.

 

Hannibal ate him out like he had something to prove with teasing licks and sucks to the outside furl of muscle before spearing inside of him, tongue wiggling as deep as he could force it. Hannibal pulled back to admire his work, air cooling the spit smeared against his most intimate area and Will had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable and laid bear. It was a heady feeling, one he could quickly grow addicted to.

 

Hannibal returned to his work enthusiastically, moaning against Will like he was the best thing he’d ever tasted which only made Will blush, sure that all the blood in his body was concentrated either in his pulsing cock or his blushing face.

 

Will was dripping copiously and he clenched around Hannibal’s tongue, the thought of touching himself never once entering his mind. Just a little closer...just a little bit more... and then Hannibal released one of his cheeks to press his first two fingers firmly against Will’s perineum, stimulating his prostate from the outside and that was it. Will cried out hoarsely, cock jerking and spurting untouched. It felt like his orgasm lasted an eternity, his ears ringing and vision whiting out as he came harder than he ever had.

 

His eyes were clamped firmly shut as he felt Hannibal manhandle him where he wanted him, and Will didn’t care. He was blissed out on endorphins and beyond caring about anything.

 

When his ears stopped ringing and he could open his eyes sleepily, he realized he was... _ curled in Hannibal’s lap _ . What the fuck? He tried to get up, only to have Hannibal halt his motions with a firm arm draped across him.

 

“Hannibal...” He said in careful, measured tones.

 

“Yes, Will?” Hannibal answered, sounding completely at ease and unbothered.

 

“Why am I in your lap?”

 

Hannibal huffed a small chuckle. “Have you heard of aftercare, Will?”

 

Of course he had. But wasn’t that a little...overkill? All Hannibal had done was spank him, really.

 

“Is that really necessary?” Will groused.

 

“I would not leave you bereft, Will. You’ve been lying here for fifteen minutes at least. Recovering.” That smug tone again. Although Will supposed he deserved it, after that spectacular orgasm...which reminded him.

 

“I can uh, return the favor. So to speak. Not that you’d want-” Will drifted off, uncertainly.

 

Hannibal took pity and shook his head, burying his nose in Will’s curls. “Tantalizing as that offer is, I found my own release shortly after you found yours.” He confessed.

 

Will arched his eyebrows and turned in Hannibal’s arms to be able to see his face. “Really? In your pants? Isn’t that a little... _ undignified _ , for you?” He asked, only half teasing.

 

Hannibal smiled nonetheless, “I had the foresight to undo my trousers to avoid just that.” He explained. And...yeah, that explained the sound of a zipper that he’d heard. Damn. He’d missed the sight of Hannibal with his cock out. Shit. He’d have to find some way to recreate that. Just the thought had his cock feebly trying to rise again, but the effort was futile for the time being.

 

\------------

 

Going home after  _ Hannibal  _ had been...disconcerting. Will felt disconnected from this plane of reality. His existence, even, was being called into question. The roads were the same, the trees that passed on either side of him as he drove were the same. His dogs, his house, the belongings within - they were all the same. It was  _ Will  _ who’d changed. Somehow.

 

Had any of that even happened? Had Hannibal really kissed him, groped him, spanked him,  _ christ _ , eaten him out? But the lingering soreness of his backside said that yes, it had happened, and yes, he’d enjoyed it immensely.

 

Will had things to do, chores to finish, but instead he sat on the couch, staring off into space until the sky darkened and his dogs started to nudge him with impatient noses asking to be let outside. He waited for them on the porch, staring off into the night, startling when his phone rang, the sound loud and cacophonous in the stillness of the surrounding forest.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Will. We have a problem.” It was Jack. Of course it was.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Freddie Lounds is missing.”

 

Will frowned, he assumed that had been old news for Jack. “What do you mean?”

 

Jack sighed loudly, always so transparent with his emotions, always so clamorous. “We briefed her on the plan, but she got defensive, and now it’s been over seventy-two hours since anyone’s seen her.”

 

That was...unexpected. Where did they go from here? Did this change things? Was she lying in wait, ready to capture irrefutable evidence of Will’s eminent betrayal of Jack, the FBI, and the very life he’d built here?

 

“What do you want me to do, Jack?” Will asked, still not entirely sure what Jack’s purpose for calling him was. He never called for any other reason than to ask  _ (demand) _ something.

 

“We need to find someone else to take her place in case she doesn’t show up.” Jack said.

 

Will’s frown deepened. “Where are you going to find someone else willing to fake their own bloody murder?” He asked dryly.

 

Jack’s irritation was palpable and Will wondered how he could cut the conversation short. “I’m going to do it.” Was the suggestion that came and Will laughed out loud, he couldn’t help it.

 

“Are you insane, Jack? He’d never buy it.” Will pointed out, what was Jack even playing at?

 

“We’ll just have to be very convincing.” Jack insisted, voice firm and unrelenting. It grated on Will’s already-frayed nerves like sandpaper. Whatever lassitude he’d gained at Hannibal’s hands was now replaced by thick apprehension, coiled tense around him like heavy, living ropes.

 

“This is a terrible idea.” Will felt compelled to point out, because it absolutely  _ was _ .

 

“It’s our best shot. I’ll see you in tomorrow morning and we can go over the details.” Jack continued, barrelling right through Will’s protests.

 

“Fine.”  _ Whatever _ . Will just wanted the absolute farce of a conversation to end already.

 

“Eight o’clock. Sharp.”  The line went dead.

 

\----------

 

The next morning, Will woke up late and shuffled through his morning routine with eyes half-closed. He got in his car and drove straight to the FBI headquarters. When he got there, Alana and Jack were already in a heated discussion. Or rather, they must have been just before Will walked in, because he walked in on them staring each other down angrily. Alana’s chest was heaving and her fists were clenched in rage. Jack was...trying to appear unaffected. So business as usual.

 

Alana turned on her heel when Will walked in, and the first thing he noticed was her red-rimmed eyes, the skin tight and abraded, like she’d been crying all night. What had happened? Will was about to ask before her eyes skimmed him and immediately narrowed in a startling combination of anger, hurt, and betrayal.

 

“ _ Really _ , Will?” She all but spat. “I thought you were better than this. I really did.” Before storming out of the office, heels clicking menacingly as she retreated.

 

Will frowned, mouth gaping open in confusion as he’d spun around to watch her leave and then spun back to look at Jack with a question burning in his eyes.

 

Jack sighed tiredly and gestured to the seat in front of his desk as he himself sat down. “Have a seat Will.”

 

“What was that?” Will asked, sitting and gesturing at the doorway.

 

“She saw the state of your neck and probably drew some conclusions.” Jack pointed out flatly.

 

His neck? What...?  _ Oh _ . Oh  _ Hannibal _ . Shit. Fuck. “I uh...”

 

Jack held up a hand. “I cannot express how much I really don’t want to hear about it, Will.” He said firmly. “Whether she was wrong or right in her assumptions, I don’t care.”

 

Will frowned, uncomprehending. “But why would she think that...?” All too ready to play coy if he had to.

 

Jack sighed again, far more exasperated. “Because Doctor Lecter broke it off with her yesterday, apparently. Now. Can we  _ please  _ move on from the personal lives of our colleagues and onto the actual business we’re here to discuss?” He asked, eyebrows raised challengingly.

 

Will just nodded, he had too much to think about now. Hannibal had broken up with her yesterday? Had it been before they’d...? Will wasn’t sure how he ought to feel about it. It felt...presumptuous on Hannibal’s part.

 

“...have been selected based on their resemblance to me in order to serve as decoys...”

 

Will realized he was supposed to be paying attention and schooled his features into something more attentive as he nodded thoughtfully, trying to catch up.

 

“...at which point you’ll reveal the body and then while he’s praising you for a job well done, you get him to confess, and we’ll have gotten it all on tape-”

 

Suddenly Will was entirely focused again. “Wait wait wait.” Will interrupted. “Whose body, again?”

 

“I told you, Will. We’ve selected a number of individuals that could reasonably pass off as me, and-”

 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought I heard you say.” Will interrupted again. “Jack. I thought this was supposed to be me pretending to commit premeditated murder? Not...whatever the hell this has become.” He said, waving his hand vaguely at the paperwork that was scattered across Jack’s desk.

 

Jack glared at him, “Will, my patience with you is growing very thin.”

 

“Yeah? Well my confidence that you can keep me out of a federal prison is, too.” Will shot back. “I’m not committing murder on your behalf, Jack. A ruse is one thing, but this? This is too far.” He stood up abruptly, hands starting to shake from his ire. Will shook his head hard, “Call me when you actually have a viable plan.” And he walked out of Jack’s office, heedless of the furious shouts that followed him down the hallway. It was official. Jack had finally lost his mind.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More stolen canon dialogue (but rearranged for reasons) and background Preller ♥ because I LOVE THEM OKAY

Will doesn’t have very many personal belongings that he would consider valuable, sentimental, or irreplaceable. There’s his favorite pocket knife, a gift from his father when he graduated from the police academy. It certainly wasn’t the best out there, and since then Will had purchased other, far more useful knives, but this one held sentimental value that made it worth keeping around. 

 

There were his books, too. Not all of them, but there were a few that he’d be sad to part with. Some had even been annotated when he bought them second-hand (something he was sure Hannibal would find offensive).

 

His flies also held a special place in his heart, but mostly because of the materials he used to make them. Something that Hannibal had managed to taint for him a little, but it was inconsequential now. 

 

His dogs, however. That hurt. He knew every day he was a little closer to having to give them up. Alana wouldn’t visit him again, Will knew. Maybe in a few weeks, but by then he’d be long gone. Aside from her, no one else was nosy enough to ask after his dogs, really. So when he called up a couple of his neighbors, telling them he was planning on moving closer to the city and couldn’t take all his dogs with him, they were happy to take them, especially given how well-behaved they were. 

 

Will would be taking Winston, though, finding that even though he’d had the dog the least amount of time, he’d connected with him in a way he hadn’t with his other dogs. Plus, like Hannibal had said, smuggling one dog out of the country was a lot easier than seven. 

 

Hannibal was expecting them tomorrow, and he’d asked what preparations he needed to make. Hannibal had told him not to worry, and that he’d take care of the specifics. All Will had to do was get rid of any remaining evidence and pack a bag of his clothing (since Hannibal knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t allow him to buy him an entirely new wardrobe right off the bat) and belongings that he didn’t want to part with. 

 

That was already done, though. A duffel bag sitting by the back door, out of sight in case he  _ did  _ get an unexpected visitor, was all he was taking. His entire life contained in a single piece of luggage. It was thrilling, in a way, to know he was leaving everything behind, and starting afresh with Hannibal. 

 

Will sat down on the floor with his pack, essentially saying his goodbyes. He’d have to drive them to their new owners in a few hours, and he wanted to spend as much time with them beforehand. It was calm, almost too much so. It felt like the calm before the storm. It felt like at any moment his life would be thrown into a whirlpool, like he was seconds away from drowning but had no idea yet. 

 

When the time came, he packed the dogs up in the car, leaving Winston at home. There were four neighbors that had agreed to take his dogs. The first two took two dogs each, while the second two only took a dog each, because they already had other dogs of their own. 

 

That afternoon was solemn, Winston looking at him with wide, questioning eyes. Will could tell he was worried, that he didn’t know what was happening. He patted the bed next to him and Winston took the gesture for the permission that it was, hopping up on Will’s bed and cuddling up to him without hesitation. Will sighed softly and petted him absently, trying to focus on anything but the stark emptiness of his house. It was disquieting and for a moment he wondered what Hannibal would do if he showed up tonight instead of tomorrow night like they’d planned. 

 

But no, Hannibal had insisted. Will wasn’t about to ruin his plans. 

 

The silence was broken by the jarring sound of his ringtone going off on his nightstand. Will reached over, saw it was Jack, and then briefly debated not answering at all. He sighed again and answered. 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Will, I need you over here. It’s a bad one.” Jack stated, and Will wondered if he’d found the body in Freddie’s room. 

 

“Where?” He asked, and sure enough, Jack read off the address for her motel. 

 

“I need you to tell me if it was him, Will.”

 

“I doubt it, Jack. I’ve been with him most days and he hasn’t said or done anything unusual.” 

 

“We’re having trouble establishing time of death.” Jack explained. Will grinned to himself, mentally praising Hannibal’s foresight. 

 

“Why? What happened?” He asked, feigning ignorance well enough that Jack didn’t suspect him. 

 

“Whatever bastard did this turned the air conditioning way up. So the body cooled a lot faster than usual.” Jack explained. Of course, since the body had lost all residual heat a few days ago, even knowing the temperature and the rate of heat loss wouldn’t help that much. 

 

“Alright, do you need me there tonight?” Will asked, already getting up and pulling jeans on. 

 

“Yeah, as soon as possible.” 

 

Will glanced at Winston guiltily. “I was bringing Winston back from the vet, so it’ll be a couple hours so I can drop him off at home...” Will lied, already knowing what Jack would say. 

 

“Just bring him along, he can wait in the car, right? It’s dark out.” 

 

“Alright.” Will said, smiling gently at Winston. 

 

“He alright?” Jack asked. 

 

“Yeah, he sliced his paw open weeks ago, and the vet wanted to make sure he had healed well, which he did. You can’t even tell it was injured.” He elaborated. 

 

“Alright, well get over here, it’s pretty grisly.” Jack said, and Will could almost visualize him nodding to himself, pleased with the outcome of the conversation. Namely that Will was on his way as soon as possible. 

 

“On my way.” 

 

\-----------

 

Winston was far more enthusiastic about the car ride than Will was. He wondered if Jack would call Hannibal to the scene in an attempt to see if he gave anything away. Will secretly hoped that would be the case, but somehow he doubted it. It wasn't that Will thought he couldn't handle the pressure of keeping a straight face at his own crime scene, but rather he missed what had passed between them when Jack had called them both to the scene of Randall Tier’s display. He remembered the pride in Hannibal's eyes warming him to the core. 

 

The drive was tedious, and when he got there, Jack was already ushering him in before he'd even parked his car. He clicked his tongue at Winston, a command to stay put, and joined Jack. 

 

“Seriously, Will, I think it's him. He came to kill Freddie and when he couldn't, he killed this man in her place.” Jack was close, of course, but he was also trusting that Will would have told him if he'd killed anyone himself. His hubris was truly unparalleled. 

 

“Well let me see and I'll tell you.” Will said tiredly. 

 

The scene hadn't really changed much from what he remembered, the cold had preserved the body very well. The blood had darkened and dried of course, and the man's skin was pallid and had begun to peel back away from the skin where it was cut, curling at the edges. Will wrinkled his nose at the smell, an expression feigned to cover up the other reaction he’d almost had to the scent...the same scent as when Hannibal had kissed him...

 

“You’re right that this man wasn’t the intended victim.” Will said. “It’s obvious the killer was after Freddie, but it wasn’t The Ripper. No trophies, for one.” He pointed out. Will circled the bed, closed his eyes and pretended to let the pendulum swing. He didn’t need the pendulum, not for this. The story had been perfected, rehearsed. Hannibal and he had worked it out until it was as flawless as they could manage. 

 

“This is what I planned for her...” He started, talking out loud for Jack’s benefit. “She didn’t love me, but I thought she did. I let her play me, use me. But she was only ever a pretty face that masked something terrible underneath...” 

 

“So this is my present for her, this is how I would leave her. Her true self exposed, finally willing to give me her heart...but I don’t want it anymore...” Will finished, opening his eyes. Jack looked to be a mixture of suspicious and resigned. 

 

“You’re sure about this.” Jack asked flatly. 

 

“I know the timing is suspect, Jack, but you can’t deny the woman made a lot of enemies. Manipulated a lot of people into getting what she wanted.” 

 

Jack frowned, more disappointed that it wasn’t The Ripper than his current lack of leads. “How would we find him, then?” 

 

Will shrugged, “She’s been doing this for years, she’s covered tons of cases. I’d look into law enforcement, first, probably. Especially the ones that aren’t local enough to be familiar with her appearance. They may have even lost their job because of her.” 

 

Jack nodded, “Alright, that gives us somewhere to start. Good work, Will.” Jack said, clapping him on the back, and effectively dismissing him. 

 

The drive home seemed even longer, somehow. 

 

\--------

 

“Agent Crawford, this is, frankly, a mess.” Kade Prurnell said, gesturing at the files in front of her. “This is entrapment, Jack.”

 

“You can't entrap someone into committing premeditated murder.” Jack countered, futilely. 

 

“Yes, you can. You're doing it. You conspired to violate Dr. Lecter's property and personal rights. And for the record, the only one involved in this investigation we can confirm actually having killed someone is Will Graham.” She accused, waving at the picture of Randall Tier, the way he’d been displayed in the museum. 

 

“It was self defense-” Jack started to argue, but a stern look had him shutting up.

“Hannibal Lecter is being induced to commit murder by an undercover FBI informant. This is outrageous government conduct. You would never get a conviction. You're not thinking clearly, Jack.” Kade sighed. 

“We are as close as we are ever going to get to catching this man.” Jack insisted. 

“I understand that your wife is very ill. You're distracted. After an inquiry, I'm putting you on forced compassionate leave. This is just staggering.” She shook her head, ignoring the outraged look Jack was giving her. She, after all, had a duty to the Bureau. A scandal like this? If it got out? They would be the laughing stock of the nation, and lose whatever trust the public had placed in them. 

 

“And then there’s this, Jack.” She continued, pulling up the file of the man found dead in Freddie’s hotel room. “Your reports read that Ms. Lounds was going to fake her own death in an effort to win Hannibal Lecter over.” 

 

Jack nodded, hands still clenched into fists by his sides. 

 

“The profile says that it wasn’t Hannibal Lecter or Will Graham, but was it not Will Graham who gave you this profile to begin with?” She asked.

 

“Yes, but-”

 

“This is an extreme conflict of interest, Jack. Unacceptable. Has the body been through forensics yet?” 

 

“Yes, it’s downstairs.” 

 

“Good, come.” She said, turning on her heel and walking out of the room, case files under her arm. Jack followed dutifully, hoping the day would end soon. 

 

Brian and Jimmy looked flustered as Kade walked in imperiously, demanding to see the body. They pulled it out of cold storage and traded glances, wondering if they should let her inspect it herself, or if they were supposed to give her some kind of report. 

 

Kade consulted the relevant case file and skimmed through the notes. “What forensic evidence is there to back up Will Graham’s profile?” She asked, eyebrows raised authoritatively. 

 

Brian looked at Jimmy, who started first. “Yes, well, Will said the killer would probably be a jilted lover, likely with a background in law enforcement.” 

 

“The first part is supported by the arrangement of the heart-” Brian interjected. 

 

“And law enforcement seems likely due to the forensic knowledge put to use to both clean and preserve the body.” Jimmy finished. 

 

Kade nodded, still reading the file. “And what about the stature that would be required to inflict these injuries?” She asked. 

 

“Well...” Jimmy started, looking over his own notes. “It would have to be someone relatively strong, based on the weight of the victim-” 

 

“-or he had help.” Brian offered.

 

“Or he had help, yes. But not likely, especially if this is such a personal motive.” Jimmy explained. 

 

“And all the cuts are consistent in pattern, made by the same blade.” Brian pointed out. “The cuts are made by someone right-handed, which is most of the population, anyway, so no help there either.” 

 

“The fishing wire that held the display is generic, sold almost anywhere, from craft stores to specialty shops, department stores, you name it.” Jimmy added with a shrug. 

 

“And nothing, no hair, skin, fingerprints, were found in the hotel room or on the body?” Kade asked. 

 

Jimmy shook his head. “Nope. We might have gotten latent fingerprints from the strangulation, but it was wiped clean, probably for that purpose. So more evidence supporting the law enforcement theory.” 

 

“Or someone who watches way too much CSI...” Brian added, and Jimmy nodded. 

 

“Or that, yes.” 

 

“None of this proves Will’s innocence.” Kade points out, turning to Jack. 

 

“That’s not how our justice system works...” Jack says slowly. “You can’t arrest someone because the evidence doesn’t  _ disprove  _ they did it.”

 

“Of course not, Jack.” Kade sniffs haughtily. “Don’t be absurd. From here on out, we’re doing this by the book.” 

 

“So uh, what are you going to do?” Brian asks tentatively, uncertain if he’s even allowed to speak aside from forensics reports. 

 

“What Jack should have done from the beginning.” Kade says, shooting Jack a disappointed look. “We've frozen his passport and we're getting a search warrant.”

 

Brian frowned. “Okay, but Hannibal already opened his doors to the FBI, there won't be physical evidence. We tried that already.” 

 

“The only way to catch him is in the act.” Jimmy agreed, but it was clear neither of them were entirely sold on the idea that Hannibal was the Ripper. 

 

“Are you saying we should have just let Jack hang himself? And everyone else in his department?” Kade demanded, talking as if Jack wasn’t even in the room. A detail that had the man gritting his teeth in poorly-concealed anger. 

 

“No. But Will’s probably still your best chance to catch Hannibal.” Jimmy said with a shrug. 

 

“This man that Will Graham killed in self defense... He was mutilated. At a certain point, self defense stops. Will Graham didn't stop. Jack Crawford sanctioned this and then he hid it from us.” Kade said, voice low and dangerous, promising a myriad of consequences for those responsible. 

 

“I have to believe that Will was trying to maintain his cover identity.” Jack interjected firmly. 

 

Kade turned to him with a raised eyebrow and incredulous expression. “Reality doesn't go away because you stop believing in it, Jack. It's stubborn like that. The reality of this situation is you misused the power of your office. For now, you’re dismissed.” She said, watching as Jack’s eyes widened in shock, before he huffed a disbelieving laugh and walked out of the room angrily. 

 

“Mrs. Prurnell, they are desperate.” Brian ventured tentatively, breaking the thick, awkward silence that had descended in the wake of Jack’s departure. 

 

“They are breaking the law.” She countered. “I'm bringing these men up on charges.”

 

“Whatever it is that’s going on...they're not going to stop.” Jimmy said, referring primarily to Will and Jack. 

 

“That's why they're being brought into custody.” Kade said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” 

 

Jimmy and Brian frowned as she left, shared a look, and then frowned even harder. “I don’t know about this, Zee.” Jimmy said sadly, shaking his head. 

 

“You don’t think Will did this?” Brian asked, gesturing at the body. 

 

Jimmy shook his head, “I don’t know, but I think she might be right about Jack. You can’t deny he’s gotten obsessive.” 

 

“Well yeah, the Ripper has evaded him for years.” 

 

“Exactly. Jack’s desperate.” Jimmy explained. “He’s making mistakes, and dragging people down with him.” 

 

“What are you going to do?” Brian asked, recognizing the look on his lover’s face. 

 

“If there was even a sliver of doubt in his mind, Will would do the same for either of us.” 

 

“Jimmy...what are you doing?”

 

“What I think is right.” He said with conviction, taking out his cell phone and opening an app that would allow him to make this call untraceable. He waited as the phone rang, he didn’t have to wait past the second ring. 

 

“Hello?” 

 

“It’s Jimmy, Will. Are you at home?” 

 

“Yeah, why? Does Jack need me to come in?”

 

“No. But Kade Prurnell was reviewing case files and they’ve issued a warrant for your arrest, Will. For acting as an accessory to entrapment.” Jimmy paused as he heard the sound of a single dog barking and the jangle of keys. “And for the murder of Randall Tier.” He added. 

 

“Thanks, Jimmy.” Was the response, a far warmer sentiment than he’d ever really heard come from Will. 

 

“You’d do the same for us.” He ventured. 

 

“Of course.” Will agreed. “I have to go. Thank you.” 

 

“Stay safe.” And the line disconnected. Jimmy looked up at Brian who was watching him with a mixture of concern and pride. 

 

“What, Zee?” 

 

Brian shook his head. “Nothing. I’ve just always admired that about you.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Your tenacity...” He said, drawing a little closer, almost inappropriately so, but they were alone in the morgue. “The way you stand up for your beliefs.” 

 

Jimmy giggled softly. “Oh stop.” He said, waving a hand in dismissal. “Get over here.” He said, tugging Brian over for a quick kiss. “Help me clean all this up and then we’ll go home.” He promised. “And I’ll show you how well I stand up for my beliefs...”

 

Brian rolled his eyes and groaned, “Your puns are terrible.”

 

“You love them.” Jimmy insisted, hip-checking him as he passed by. 

 

\------------

 

Will wasn’t sure how much time he had, but he knew that it was definitely counting down, now. It was hours yet before he would be expected at Hannibal’s, but he couldn’t take his own car, not if a warrant had already been issued. He grabbed his duffel bag, a gun, and a leash for Winston. He pulled on thick winter boots, not sure how long he’d have to walk in the snow that had fallen the night before. 

 

Ideally, he’d hitchhike. It was virtually the only untraceable form of transportation in this situation. Once he reached Hannibal’s house, he was sure everything would be fine, Hannibal would have everything planned out. Speaking of which, Will needed to warn him. If a warrant had been issued for Will, one had been issued for Jack, probably. Which meant that Jack would end up going to Hannibal’s as soon as possible and try to end it completely, before he was arrested. Will couldn’t let that happen. 

 

Just before he left his house, he dialed Hannibal’s number. He needed to be concise, in case anyone else was listening. 

 

“Hello?”

 

“Persephone’s been delayed. They know.” Was all he said before hanging up. Hopefully that would be enough to ensure Hannibal wasn’t caught off-guard. Fuck. Yet another reason that living so far away was more of an inconvenience in the long run. Then again, it also meant he had more time to run than he would if he was in the city. 

 

The weak, winter sun was setting, and Will headed for the forest. No one knew these woods better than he did, and there was a road about a mile or two in that went in a direction away from his house, so less likely that the people looking for him would use that particular road. 

 

\--------

 

The front door was open when he arrived, and Alana was shivering on the doorstep, surrounded by broken glass. What was going on? Something had clearly gone very, very wrong. 

 

Not one to take unnecessary chances, Will drew his gun, entering the house cautiously. He dropped his bag by the door and gave Winston the command to wait and be quiet. He lay down by Will's bag obediently, watching him with wide, intelligent eyes. 

 

Will wasn't sure what he expected to see in the kitchen, but as he got closer, he could see a pool of blood widening from under the door to the pantry. Will's heart lodged in his throat and he prayed that wasn't Hannibal's blood. A movement drew his eye and the gun lowered immediately. 

 

“....Abigail?” he asked, disbelieving. So much was suddenly revealed, a weight lifted off his chest at the realization he hadn't killed her after all. Hannibal must have planned this, possibly since the beginning, but he struck Will as the kind of man who usually played things by ear. A pun which nearly made Will snort out loud, it was exactly the kind of humor that Hannibal would appreciate. Speaking of which...

 

“Where is he?”He asked, and a subtle movement of her eyes betrayed Hannibal’s position, entering the kitchen soundless behind him. Will turned, eyes meeting Hannibal’s with something like relief. Hannibal’s own look caught somewhere between fury and a tenderness Will had never been accustomed to being directed at him.

 

“I thought I was too late.” He whispered, a shaky smile as his brows drew up, concerned for the amount of blood on Hannibal’s shirt. How much of it was his? 

 

“We couldn’t leave without you.” Hannibal admitted, and Will watches him with wide eyes, dropping to watch his lips speak the words. His own lips part in anticipation as Hannibal raises a hand to his face, cupping the side of his head and caressing the shell of his ear with his thumb. The touch is hotter than Will expected, scalding against his rain-chilled skin. He shudders, melting into the touch, stepping closer, and their height difference has never been so pronounced before as Will has to crane his head to look at Hannibal fully. 

 

“Hann-” Will starts before he’s silenced, Hannibal’s lips crushing against his like polished silver, smooth and unyielding. Will’s hand goes to Hannibal’s shoulder, shaky in the way he grips him closer, and the other hand wraps around Hannibal’s hip, tentatively, like he’s not sure if his touch would be accepted. But when had Hannibal ever pushed Will away? 

 

Will isn’t sure how it happened, but his mouth is open now, and Hannibal’s tongue is sliding against his own, hot and slick, molten gold. He can hear shameless moans: whining, greedy things, and it takes a moment for him to realize they’re coming from his own throat, crawling their way up from the folds of his vocal cords, unrelenting in their advance.

 

His tongue tangles with Hannibal’s own, and they twine and writhe against each other, and it feels like he’s tasting Hannibal for the first time. It’s heady, the taste of wine still lingers on his tongue, as does the copper tang of blood. Beneath it all is a warmth, a flavor entirely Hannibal’s own, and there are no words to describe it. All Will knows is that it makes him want to bear his throat and accept whatever Hannibal would deem him fit to receive. 

 

Will tugs Hannibal ever closer, wanting to feel the weight of him, the breadth of his shoulders pressed against him. Their hips make contact and Will’s surprised at his own arousal even more than Hannibal’s, which doesn’t even meet up with his own. No, Hannibal’s erection, substantial enough to send a thrill down his spine, presses into his lower belly, while Will’s is trapped against Hannibal’s upper thigh. Hannibal walks him backwards, pressing him against the edge of the counter, which bites cruelly at his lower back, and Will accepts the leg that Hannibal slides between his thighs and grinds against it shamelessly, grateful for the friction. Their lips part in a breathless gasp as Will arches his neck and keens, fingers gripping the sides of Hannibal’s shirt in an effort to hold him closer still. 

 

He obediently tilts his chin to let Hannibal bite at his throat, licking up the stray drop of water dripping from his hair as he sucked cruel bruises against Will’s neck. Will’s hands splayed against Hannibal’s chest, and he marveled at how they didn’t even cover half the breadth of him before his fingers inched towards Hannibal’s buttons, fingers numb with cold fumbling with the tiny mother-of-pearl discs. 

 

A cleared throat. A hesitation. “Not to interrupt but uh...” Abigail. 

 

Another pause; not Hannibal’s, though. Another bruise sucked into his throat. 

 

“Should I go? Or maybe you two can uh, get a room?” Tentatively suggested. 

 

Hannibal’s eyes flashed up dangerously from his task, “A wonderful idea, Abigail.” He rumbled, a growl Will felt more than heard. 

 

Will knew Hannibal was going to say something else, but he couldn’t help but interject. “This...this  _ is  _ a room... _ ah! Hannibal _ ...” Hannibal interrupted him with a tongue tracing the curve of his ear. 

 

“Your room, Abigail.” Hannibal ordered, flipping Will bodily around and pressing him against the smooth stainless steel countertop. Will felt Hannibal reach for something and then he felt pressure against the seat of his pants. While he wasn’t opposed to where he thought this was going, he was confused until he heard the rip of fabric and the cool, intimate slide of a blade far too close to delicate skin for comfort. The sound of the fabric tearing must have reached Abigail as well, for her eyes widened in a mixture of scandal and fascination. Will understood, then, that Hannibal wouldn’t be distracted long enough to truly run her out of the kitchen. He hoped it was only morbid curiosity that kept her as he heard the knife tossed next to him on the counter (was that...a linoleum knife? Who kept a linoleum knife hanging around?) and Hannibal’s fingers begin to slide inside the hole he’d created. 

 

“Go, Abigail.” Will panted, face flushed with arousal and embarrassment as Hannibal’s fingers began to explore him. “Please...” She seemed to come to her senses then, nodding and taking steps backwards, but still moving far too slowly in Will’s opinion. Hannibal’s fingers withdrew, only to reach for the bottle of (no doubt imported and very expensive) olive oil and return with slicked fingers that pressed, unrelenting,  _ inside  _ and  _ deep  _ and  _ so, so good _ . 

 

“Be a good girl and put your headphones in.” Hannibal commented, voice somehow returned to a cool neutrality that Will instantly despised. He squeezed down on the invading fingers in retaliation only for them to press deliciously against the spot that made him see stars, exhaling a gasp and a moan. 

 

“Daddy’s busy.” Hannibal said in such a voice that went straight to Will’s cock and had him clenching in perverse pleasure. Abigail, finally, was gone from the kitchen, having left them with a smirk and a scrunch of her nose. 

 

Nothing was ever lost on Hannibal, at least, not from what Will had seen, and his reaction to Hannibal’s words was no different. Hannibal bent over Will, pressing his weight against him to press him more firmly against the counter while his fingers continued. “Daddy’s going to take care of you, Will.” He promised, his accent caressing the words in a way that curled low in Will’s gut, an aching need he never knew he had. 

 

“Oh god, oh god _ please! _ ” Will moaned, thrusting back onto his fingers encouragingly. Hannibal chuckled darkly, extracting his fingers roughly, Will wincing at the treatment. It wasn’t a moment later that Hannibal was pressing inside him, splitting him open, and claiming him entirely. A liquid moan tore its way free from his throat, guttural and gasping, as if he’d been gutted. 

 

Will’s hands slid against the counter, losing his purchase entirely. The stainless steel was wet from the water he’d dripped on it and continued to do, and Will found that his arms hardly had the strength to hold himself up even if he’d had the proper leverage. He slumped boneless against the hard surface, Hannibal humming in approval as he began to move, snapping his hips ruthlessly, driving in without pause. Will felt pinned, like an insect or a specimen for dissection. It felt like Hannibal was peeling back his layers, his carefully constructed barriers. 

 

Hannibal’s fingers bit at his hips, lifting him onto the tips of his toes so he could drive in deeper. Will’s hole twitched around him, overstretched and burning with friction. Still, he urged him faster, urged him deeper, crying out in little breathless pants. “ _ Please, Hannibal, _ more, please...” Only to have Hannibal halt his movements entirely, pulling back until just the head of his cock held Will open.

 

“Please  _ what _ , Will?” He prompted, and Will’s cheeks burned with humiliation, but he could feel his cock leak in betrayal. He knew the words that Hannibal wanted to hear. He knew them in the depth of his soul, and a part of him rebelled against the idea, recoiled in revulsion and horror. The larger, far more honest part of himself, a part that he usually fought so hard to suppress, uncoiled and arched like a cat, languid and pleased. It coiled around his heart, which clenched painfully as Will was forced to acknowledge and confront this hidden part of himself that he hadn’t even known existed. 

 

“Please....” Will begged, his voice tight and breathy, “ _ Daddy, please. _ ”

 

And Will could just about feel Hannibal smile as he slid back inside, still torturously slow, teasing him still. Will whimpered in dismay, pushing back against Hannibal, but his fingers against his hips prevented any movement. 

 

“ _ Daddy... _ ” Will whined, just a hint of his Louisiana accent coloring his words. 

 

Hannibal rewarded him, driving forward sharply and giving Will the tempo he craved. Will sighed into the treatment, relaxing around Hannibal as he was used so thoroughly, so deliciously. His own cock strained against his zipper, hard as steel and aching. He had tried to reach for his zipper but Hannibal yanked his hands away with a warning growl and it was all Will could do to just lie there and take it. And take it he did, beautifully, in fact. His back bowed as he pushed back to meet each of Hannibal’s thrusts on the tips of his toes, his calves burning from the exertion. He could feel his hair start to drip more frequently, with sweat rather than rainwater. The kitchen felt stifling with Hannibal’s body heat surrounding him like a furnace. The metal countertop only reflected the heat back at him and Will felt like he was being roasted from the inside out. The absurd thought entered his mind that Hannibal was basting him, marinating him. Hell, he was already slicked with olive oil, and the thought made him huff out a breath of dry amusement that Hannibal didn’t bother to dignify with a response. 

 

No, Hannibal was like a metronome, his pace never stuttering, never faltering, and Will wondered, not for the first time, if he was truly even human. Hannibal, presumably nearing his own completion, tilted his hips in a slightly different angle, slamming against his prostate with each stroke with the precision of a surgeon. 

 

Almost instantly, Will felt his balls draw up, tight and sore as he sought release. Just the slightest touch, the slightest friction would be enough at this point, and Will canted his hips towards the edge of the counter, trying to give himself even a tiny bit of pressure. 

 

Hannibal noticed, of course he noticed, how could not? He noticed and he prohibited the motion, jerking Will back sharply onto his cock and away from the surface.

 

“I’m...so close, Hanni-  _ Daddy _ , please. Please, just a touch, just...” Will moaned, breaking the silence that had been filled only with unintelligible moans and the slick slap of skin on skin. 

 

For a moment, Hannibal changed nothing, fucking into him with the same level of determination. However, a moment later Hannibal reached a hand down between Will’s legs, cruelly gripping him through his pants in a hold that was more pain than pleasure as he rasped in his ear, “Come for me, beautiful boy. Just like this.” 

 

Moaning, Will obeyed, spilling hot and wet into his boxers, shivering suddenly at the slick feeling and the chill that he felt climbing up his spine and he was reminded that he was still drenched in rain from head to toe. Hannibal didn’t still inside of him, but his thrusts sped up, erratic now, desperate. Will realized that this was the most out of control he’d ever seen Hannibal, and he relished it, even though his hole was twitching around him, oversensitive and rubbed raw. Hannibal bent over him, licking a wide stripe against the nape of his neck, collecting the water and sweat that plastered his hair to his clammy skin. 

 

Will panted against his own forearms, bent in front of him as his head hung down in surrender. He felt the ring of Hannibal’s teeth pressed to his nape and he tilted his head to give him more room, accepting what Hannibal was about to do. It was a mere moment later that Hannibal bit down forcefully, tearing skin, but stopping at muscle. Will cried out, and time seemed to stop as Hannibal pressed deep inside of him, sheathed to the hilt as he flooded his bruised and abraded body. Hannibal lay heavy against him, and Will felt the heat of him, deep and wet inside him, as well as the scalding humidity of his breath against the broken skin of his neck.

 

They stayed that way for a while, as if suspended in the split second between time slowing to a halt and then reversing. Will felt Hannibal soften and then slip out of him slowly. For a long moment, nobody spoke, the silence broken only by the sound of the storm raging outside. Will spared a moment to consider what a perfect metaphor it was for how he was feeling, and wondered if the storm mirrored Hannibal’s thoughts as well. 

 

Hannibal straightened, tucking himself away, and without the lingering warmth of him pressed against his back, Will suddenly felt colder and more vulnerable than he had in awhile. He pushed himself up reflexively, not wanting to be bent over for Hannibal anymore. Not when...not when he couldn’t tell what Hannibal was thinking. Hating that he had to be the one to take initiative, Will turned to face Hannibal, but was disappointed. Hannibal only spared him a glance before averting his eyes, but that glance had spoken volumes. Hannibal was...ashamed? Of losing control, perhaps. His eyes were regretful, dark and cold as Will had never seen them, but he also knew he hadn’t imagined the brief flicker of warmth as he’d looked at Will. 

 

What now, then? The reality of the evening’s events was starting to set in, rapidly and unerringly. They needed to go, now before it was too late. Surely Jack must have called for backup at some point, in fact, where was Jack? He supposed if he was a threat, Hannibal would not have tarried with Will the way he had, right? He surely would have finished dealing with Jack beforehand. 

 

The moments stretched on, artificially lengthened by the bubble they were both trapped in, and neither seemed willing to break. Will wondered what he could possibly say that wouldn’t shatter this moment completely. There was so much that they needed to discuss, so much that if they didn’t, they might not get a chance to later. Will wondered for a moment what the most important thing he wanted to convey to Hannibal. If he got to say nothing else, what did Hannibal need to know, above all else? The answer came surprisingly easy. 

 

“I chose you...this.” Will said, voice almost too quiet. Hannibal heard, though, he knew he did. When Hannibal looked at him, his defenses had been rebuilt, and all Will could see were his walls, and while the sight made his heart ache, it also meant that Hannibal was not so completely wounded that his emotions spilled forth like wine from a shattered glass. Will tried to take comfort in this. 

 

Hannibal didn’t acknowledge his words verbally, but after a moment of scrutiny he spoke as if he’d been the one to break the silence, rather than Will. “Come. There is much to do.” Hannibal slipped away, stepping soundlessly through his house with the full expectation that Will would follow. Of course he would. 

 

Will felt himself leak as he walked, the insides of his thighs growing slick and tacky with oil and come, and his face burned in humiliation, even more so as he felt the draft of air that exposed his most private places, now blown open for Hannibal’s scrutiny. But that was how it had always been, was it not? Hannibal always exposed him, one way or another, and then left him to deal with the aftermath on his own. Will supposed he ought to resent him for it, but at present he was too tired to care past a lingering discomfort and disgust at the sensation. He tried to tighten muscles that had been stretched out of shape and found himself unable to, succeeding only in pushing more of Hannibal’s spendings out of him. Will was glad that Hannibal walked in front of him. Small mercies. 

 

Hannibal led him to his bedroom, walking to his closet and extracting a change of clothing for Will, who took them gratefully and went to the ensuite to change. Will cleaned himself up and bunched his old clothes into a sodden mess to be disposed of. As he was dressing, Will noticed first that the pants fit...strangely well. Will wondered when, exactly Hannibal had had the time to get his measurements, or had he simply guessed? The shirt was the same, a small tag at the collar bearing the initials “WG”. It was enough to bring color to Will’s cheeks in an embarrassed flush. Hannibal had...taken quite a lot of time with these preparations and it was overwhelming. Will looked at himself in the mirror, feeling not quite himself, but not entirely other, either. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to arrange his curls in a way that wasn’t completely at odds with the high quality of the clothing he wore. 

 

When he emerged from the bathroom, Hannibal had changed as well, sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting for Will. He looked just as tense as he had before, and it seemed neither of them was entirely sure how to act around the other. It was a disquiet that Will didn’t like. He’d never felt like he had to walk on eggshells around Hannibal, their conversations, even when they were trying to manipulate each other, had always flowed naturally. 

 

Hannibal rose when Will came into the room and looked him up and down appraisingly. His eyes softened the tiniest amount before they returned to their previous masked state. Will offered a small smile in return, but it stretched his face in a way that made him feel like he was about to crack and shatter. 

 

With a nod of his head, Hannibal guided them from the room to the front door where Abigail was waiting with packed bags and two umbrellas. Hannibal took one umbrella and their luggage while Abigail extended the other to Will and guided them both, and Winston, to Hannibal’s waiting car -- not his Bentley, but a nondescript silver car of a make and model that Will couldn’t identify by sight, but looked entirely ordinary. Will entered the passenger seat, and Abigail sat directly behind him, and they waited for Hannibal to finish loading the car. 

 

Will watched as Hannibal walked back to the front step, dug a handkerchief out of his pocket, gagged Alana, and then dragged her back inside the house by her feet. Will winced, if the fall didn’t paralyze her, the harsh way she was moved probably would. Hannibal re-emerged from the house, this time with a broom in hand and quickly swept the glass off of the step, and Will realized he was trying to buy them time. The FBI would find out regardless, but this way, it wasn’t likely that a neighbor would report it before they figured it out on their own. 

 

When Hannibal returned, getting in the driver's seat of the car, Will was moderately amused as Hannibal had to adjust his seat and mirrors which had apparently been set to Abigail’s preferences. The sight of Hannibal sitting on polyester seats and gripping a faux-leather steering wheel seemed so...out of place and  _ wrong _ . 

 

They drove away from the city calmly, and Will lost himself in the monotony of the buildings and lights that they passed, not bothering to care what direction they were going, he’d find out eventually, or not. Will supposed it didn’t really matter, he’d chosen Hannibal, and he’d already known that meant leaving everything else behind. He saw Abigail for the reward Hannibal intended her to be. The thought curled thick and heavy in his stomach, an ache that he didn’t want to address or even acknowledge. 

 

The ride was reminiscent of the last car trip he’d taken with Hannibal, when they’d driven to see if Abigail was still alive. It had been raining that night too. That was the night he’d first begun to see Hannibal for who he truly was. Will had been so blinded, although to be fair, his brain had also been on fire. He supposed that some allowances could be made for that. 

 

At some point Will fell asleep, lulled by the sound of the rain and the rhythmic swish-thump of the windshield wipers. They were still driving when Will awoke, but it was early morning, before the sun had even risen yet. Will wondered if they’d stopped for gas at some point and if so, how had he managed to sleep through it? He tried to imagine Hannibal doing something as mundane as getting gas, standing in a grimy parking lot and holding the nozzle to the car, but the image just wouldn’t form in his mind. It was a stretch, even for his own imagination. 

 

He heard shifting in the backseat that signaled Abigail was awake, too. Will wondered if she’d managed to sleep at all. “Psst, hey, are you awake?” Abigail whispered, leaning over to poke him lightly in the shoulder. Will straightened and turned to look over his shoulder at her. 

 

“Yeah, what’s up?” He asked. 

 

She grinned mischievously and held out a bag of half-empty beef jerky that Winston looked like he desperately wanted to steal. “Hungry?” 

 

Will eyed Hannibal, whose knuckles had tightened on the wheel, but otherwise seemed determined not to acknowledge the blasphemy of Abigail’s choice of road-trip snacks. Will took the bag gratefully. “Thanks, Abigail.” He said sincerely and popped a piece in his mouth, taking his time to chew it and savor it. It might not be up to Hannibal’s high standards, but it was still pretty good, in Will’s opinion. 

 

Abigail looked pleased with herself and took the opportunity to break the silence. “So. The FBI found the crime scene a couple hours after we left, but they all assume we’ve left the country, which is what we probably would have done if it weren’t so obvious a move.” She explained, looking very pleased with herself. “That’s what I told Hannibal, anyway. He wanted to take us to Italy and I said we should wait for the dust to settle, you know? Maybe hide out for a while and wait for another killer to make the headlines.” 

 

Will nodded slowly, considering this. “What about Freddie Lounds? She has an uncanny ability to make wild predictions that hit unfortunately close to the mark.” 

 

Abigail shook her head, “Nah. She’s still in hiding, but is still managing to post updates regularly. I think she hired a photographer for the crime scene photos of Hannibal’s house.” She explained. “She’s jumped on the likelihood that we’re in another country, actually. She called you two murder husbands and said you were on a honeymoon in Europe and it wouldn’t be long before the bodies started dropping.”

 

Will huffed out a breath in amusement despite himself. “Figures. Won’t be long before that’s on t-shirts.” 

 

Abigail giggled, “Too late for that. She’s way ahead of you.” She said. “As soon as the news hit, she revealed a whole line of “murder husbands” merchandise. I think she kind of expected you to double-cross the FBI.” 

 

Will hummed, remembering all too clearly how close he’d come to  _ not  _ doing that. He also knew that if he hadn’t, he would have regretted it, possibly for the rest of his life. “They took me by surprise.” Will admitted, and he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Hannibal suddenly seemed a lot more attentive. “Jimmy Price called me to tell me the FBI had put a warrant out for my arrest. Apparently the higher-ups found out what Jack was trying to do and decided to shut the whole thing down. I barely had time to sneak out of the house before they would have caught me.” 

 

Abigail’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth to say something but Hannibal spoke before she could. “I was unaware of that, Will.” It was the first words Hannibal had spoken to him since they’d left. 

 

Will ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “Yeah, sorry my phone call was so curt, I was panicking a little.” He admitted. “All I could think of when I got the phone call was flashing lights, going back to that hospital, and having Chilton poke around in my brain again.” He shuddered. “I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime. Several lifetimes.”

 

Hannibal’s lips twitched in a movement that betrayed slight amusement. “How were you able to evade them?” He asked, curiosity no doubt piqued. 

 

Will shook his head, trying to remember. The events had started to muddle and blur, to the point where the night felt more like a particularly bad fever dream. “I ran through the woods for a couple miles, I think, until I hit a road.” He explained. “Then I hitched a ride from an older man and had the same circular conversation with him four times, so I doubt he’d remember me. He dropped me off somewhere in the city and I got a cab from there.” 

 

“Resourceful.” Was Hannibal’s only comment. It felt contradictingly both condescending and genuine, but then, that’s how Hannibal sounded most of the time anyway. 

 

“Well,” said Abigail after a moment, “I’m starving, can we get something to eat?” The question clearly directed at Hannibal. Will halfway expected him to pull out a cooler with cured meats, gourmet cheese and homemade sourdough bread for sandwiches, but he didn’t. Instead he made a rather pained expression. 

 

“Abigail...” he said slowly, a warning, but she wasn’t having any of it. 

 

“You promised, Hannibal. I ate the weird brain-on-crackers thing, so now you get to eat something you find disgusting.” 

 

“I sincerely hoped you’d forgotten.” He said with an uncharacteristically petulant expression, frowning at Will who looked entirely too entertained by the exchange. 

 

“Pshh, no, I’ve been saving that one.” She said proudly and Hannibal sighed sadly. 

 

“Very well. What would you have me poison myself with?” Hannibal asked, resigned. 

 

“That.” A slender finger pointed at iconic golden arches approaching from the horizon. Will chuckled, thoroughly amused. 

 

“Cruel girl. After all I’ve done for you...” Hannibal muttered, but obligingly pulled into the parking lot and into the drive-thru. Abigail giggled fiendishly and Will found himself smiling as well. What  _ would  _ Hannibal’s refined palate think of fast food? Assuming his taste buds survived the assault. 

 

Abigail requested McNuggets, Will got a BigMac, Hannibal looked like he was hungry for an entirely different sort of meat. In the end, after being told a salad didn’t count, he followed Will’s lead and got a BigMac as well. And a cup of iced water, allowed only under the stipulation that he had to sample Will’s root beer and Abigail’s coke.

 

Hannibal looked like a man dying as he took a bite of the cheeseburger. “Well?” Abigail asked impatiently, “What do you think?” 

 

Hannibal chewed and swallowed reluctantly. “This...is  _ not _ meat.” He insisted. “The bread, if it can be called that, is stale at best. The lettuce is wilted, the cheese chemical and plastic. The tomatoes flavorless, the onions...probably the least terrible part of this mess.” He declared. “In summation, this is not food.”

 

“You sure?” Abigail teased. “What about the fries? They're probably the best part of McDonald's.” 

 

Hannibal glared but tried one anyway, before promptly spitting it back out into a napkin, delicately wiping his offended mouth. “Those salty abominations are an affront to potatoes everywhere.” He sneered. “I can just about taste the acne-riddled adolescent that fried them.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, guys I'm so sorry that this took as long as it did! October has been ridiculous and it feels like I haven't gotten anything done this month, it's been so full of real-life stuff. BUT! Better late than never, yes? I even added some more porn and fluff for you guys ♥ hope you like! And thank you for all the lovely feedback I've gotten on this! I love you all dearly (^_^)  
> Enjoy! ♥

Luckily for everyone involved, Hannibal didn’t have long to wait for proper food. An hour later they were parked outside a modern-looking cliff-side house that sat mere feet from the roiling Atlantic. 

 

They bought their things inside, Winston happily sniffing around the property once he’d gotten Will’s permission to explore. Will, on the other hand, stood awkwardly in the living room, holding his bag and wondering what he was supposed to be doing. Abigail had immediately walked down one hallway, presumably to a bedroom she’d already claimed as her own, and Hannibal had walked down a hallway in the opposite direction. Which left Will standing in the middle, alternating between looking down one hallway and another, debating which way he should venture. 

 

Would Hannibal prefer him in a room of his own? Or would he be welcome in Hannibal’s bed? 

 

He stood there, undecided, long enough for Winston to grow disinterested with the outdoors and wander inside to find his master. 

 

Feeling entirely out of his depth, Will went down neither hallway,opting instead to sit on the couch and wait. He’d never liked social situations where the rules weren’t clearly stated. This...felt like he was intruding into someone else’s house. Abigail had clearly been here already, and it felt like a space to be shared only by her and Hannibal. Will felt like he didn’t belong. 

 

“Will?” Called Hannibal as he entered the living room. “Perhaps you would like to unpack?” He suggested, nodding at the duffel bag at Will’s feet. 

 

Will stood, scratching the back of his neck. “I uh...wasn’t sure where you wanted me.” He explained, waving his hand vaguely. 

 

Hannibal’s eyes softened in a way that Will knew he’d quickly become addicted to. “With me, Will. Always with me.” He said, even his voice had taken on a softer, gentler tone. 

 

Will chuckled nervously, “Yeah, but I mean-”

 

Hannibal held up a hand to interrupt, expression starting to look resigned. “Will. There is of course a spare bedroom down that hallway should you prefer it. But you must know that you are always welcome in my bed.” 

 

Will blushed, and smiled faintly, “Yeah...I’d-I’d like that.” He agreed, stepping closer to Hannibal, who reached for his hand and brought it up to his lips so he could press a kiss to the back of Will’s knuckles. 

 

“As would I.” Hannibal agreed, not letting Will’s hand go as he led them both down the hallway. 

 

Hannibal’s bedroom was done in shades of blue and grey, something that managed to be both relaxing and inviting. It reminded Will of the sea that churned just outside. 

 

“Where should I...?” Will asked, looking around the room. 

 

“That dresser is empty.” Hannibal pointed. “As is the right half of the closet. Feel free to use the space as you wish.” 

 

Will nodded gratefully and began to unpack. Hannibal left the room to busy himself with lunch preparations. Will unpacked everything he owned with a tidiness to rival Hannibal’s own. He tried to tell himself he was trying to respect Hannibal’s penchant for neatness, but in reality he knew that he was stalling. 

 

When he was done he ventured slowly towards the kitchen, finding Winston curled up by the fireplace that had been lit. The house was chilly and the fire felt heavenly, but Will forced himself to keep going and join Hannibal in the kitchen. 

 

It seemed Hannibal wasn’t really in the mood to prepare an elaborate meal, but instead was preparing sandwiches (granted, they looked like gourmet sandwiches) while a pot of soup bubbled on the stovetop. 

 

“Anything I can do to help?” He asked, as Hannibal sliced thick pieces of sourdough and began to layer them with deli-sliced cold cuts of a meat Will would rather not think too hard about. 

 

“If you would stir the soup, that would be helpful, thank you Will.” 

 

Will nodded and did as Hannibal instructed, feeling a little silly about his task until he noticed that the soup was, actually, a little prone to sticking. It was thick and creamy, with chunks of vegetables and spices that floated to the top. 

 

For a while neither talked, working in silence that was considerably less awkward than Will would have anticipated. But it wasn’t long before the question that had been bubbling up inside him finally spilled from his mouth. 

 

“So...what happened back there?” He asked. 

 

Hannibal took a long breath. “Jack arrived early. I believe, according to your account of things, that he may have known he’d be arrested as well.” Hannibal explained. “He came to kill me. I will admit that thanks to your call I was...as prepared as one could be for such a situation.” 

 

Will nodded, glad that the call had helped more than hindered. “I just...I realized how it would look, and I wanted you to know I was on your side...but that arriving was going to be a little more difficult than I anticipated.” 

 

Hannibal nodded, “Yes, I...nearly allowed my imagination to take over. I felt...a stab of betrayal, I will admit. But it was assuaged at the sight of you.” 

 

Will smiled softly. “And what about Alana? Why was she there at all?” He asked. 

 

Hannibal sighed, “Truly, I do not know.” He admitted. “The only thing I can think of is perhaps she found out and was the one who warned Jack to begin with, and then arrived to assist him? I gave her a chance to walk away, but now it would not surprise me if she does not walk at all.” 

 

Will winced in sympathy. “The fall was bad enough.” He agreed. “But the way you moved her...yeah, I mean, you’re a doctor, you know the likelihood of her walking better than I do.” 

 

“Indeed.” Hannibal agreed. “It seems...fitting in a way. That I should cripple someone who sought to do the same to me.” 

 

Will huffed a humorless laugh. “She was very angry with me.” He commented.

 

“Is that so?” Hannibal asked mildly, and Will wondered how much was affectation. 

 

“After that night, um...in your office...” Will referenced, face heating at the memory. “I slept late and didn’t pay attention as I left the house, and she saw me covered in bruises.” 

 

“And assumed, quite correctly, that was the reason I had terminated our relationship.” Hannibal surmised and Will nodded. “Well, I suppose that explains her actions in my kitchen.” He mused. 

 

“I thought you said you weren’t fostering ideas of permanency.” 

 

“And I did not.” Hannibal confirmed. “However, I believe that since I was once her mentor, the feeling of rejection was in a way, two-fold.” 

 

Will narrowed his eyes. “Are you implying she had some kind of student/teacher...fantasy?” 

 

Hannibal couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, “Not so overtly, no. I believe that if such a fantasy had resided in her psyche, it would have remained entirely subconscious.”

 

Will hummed his acknowledgement as Hannibal finished plating all three sandwiches and then came to stand behind him, observing the soup. He reached around Will’s hip to turn the burner off. “I believe, dear Will, that Alana was very jealous of you.” He murmured before pressing a light kiss to the nape of Will’s neck and then moving away to get three bowls down from the cupboard. 

 

Is that what it was going to be like, now? Casual intimacy while they made food? Trust, companionship, and affection? It was something Will had never shared before, the closest he’d ever come to it was his dogs. They were trustworthy, companionable and affectionate, but Will figured Hannibal probably wouldn’t appreciate the comparison. 

 

Still, the more he considered it, the less he minded. Maybe there was more to Hannibal aside from plaid suits, murder and cannibalism. Did he have...a soft side? A caring side? Psychopaths often were more than aware of the appropriate behaviors to fake if they had to pass as ordinary, but none of the sincerity was present. Hannibal...felt sincere...but how could Will be sure? 

 

Will let Hannibal serve the soup as he carried the sandwiches to the table, Hannibal not far behind. Just as Will was about to ask if he should call Abigail, the smell of lunch seemed to have drawn her from her room as she stepped around the corner with a smile on her face. She looked between Will and Hannibal in the kitchen, trying to be subtle, but obviously trying to gauge the mood between them. 

 

“Looks good, Daddy.” She said, entering the kitchen to peck a kiss onto Hannibal’s cheek before returning to take her seat at the table. Will tried not to blush or look bewildered, but was starting to find it difficult as a million questions seemed to itch on the tip of his tongue. 

 

He noticed Abigail blushing softly and made a greater effort to appear as if her words hadn’t completely short-circuited his brain. However, Abigail took pity on him and explained. “Hannibal said I could...” She said tentatively. “Said maybe you’d prefer to be called ‘dad’...I mean...if that’s alright?” She ventured. 

 

Will could honestly say he was dumbstruck, but he nodded anyway. “Sure. Um. Yeah, if you’d like.” He agreed, smiling despite himself. Hannibal had done the impossible and given him, given them both, a family. He blinked a few times and looked down at the table to stave off the pleased tears that threatened to fall. 

 

Hannibal emerged with the soup, an enigmatic half-smile on his face as he announced what it was, but Will was only half-listening. Will was lost in his thoughts, dark with the shadows of what could have been, of what would have happened had he forfeited what Hannibal was now offering him. Will never could have won that game, not when he never knew the stakes. But neither could he really consider himself to have lost, not when he was sitting here, miles away from Jack and the soulless eyes of the dead, with Hannibal, Abigail, and Winston, even. Parents, a child, and a dog. It was like a Hallmark greeting card, and Will couldn’t imagine ever wanting anything more. 

 

“I apologize, Will, if I overstepped my bounds in encouraging Abigail to see us both in more paternal roles.” Hannibal said, and Will thought he sounded sincere. 

 

“No, no...it’s fine.” He insisted, somewhat surprised to find that he meant it. “She’s...our daughter...” He said tentatively, encouraged by the smile that spread across Abigail’s face. “None of us really fit into this world perfectly...none of us had  _ traditional  _ family experiences. I think we deserve this, each other.” He said decisively. 

 

“Wonderfully put, Will.” Hannibal agreed, raising his glass in a mock-toast, and Will didn’t sense any sarcasm.

 

\---------

 

After lunch, everyone agreed it was time for a nap, and Will, with some awkwardness, retired to the room he now was sharing with Hannibal. Hannibal had remained in the kitchen, insisting on taking care of the kitchen immediately, but insisting that Will and Abigail go on to bed. 

 

Will, bolstered by the confidence the empty room inspired, wasted no time in stripping down to boxers and a t-shirt to sleep in. He didn’t question this decision until Hannibal walked in the room and gave him a look so blatantly hungry and predatory that Will wasn’t sure if he’d rather get dressed or run for the hills. He was reasonably sure Hannibal wouldn’t  _ actually  _ eat him. At least...not that way. In other ways...well.  _ He already had _ . 

 

Will chose the third option, which was to slide underneath the bedcovers and try not to look as awkward as he felt, lying there on his back. Hannibal managed to hold his tongue and not comment, but a smile teased at the corners of his lips as he stripped down to boxers as well, only to then tug on a pair of soft cotton pajama pants. Hannibal briefly considered sleeping bare-chested, but decided he’d rather not push Will’s limits today, not when he was far too tired to do anything about it. Instead he chose a comfortable sweater he didn’t mind sleeping in. 

 

He drew the heavy blackout curtains in the bedroom, blocking out the midday sun and leaving them with an incomplete darkness that was enough to make Will feel drowsy. Hannibal turned the ceiling fan on and then crawled into bed beside Will, who was doing his best to impersonate a statue. 

 

“You don’t seem comfortable, Will.” Hannibal pointed out. “Is there something you need? A glass of water, perhaps?” He asked, purposefully playing dumb.

 

Will shook his head. “No, I just...I don’t know what this is...what the rules are here.” He admitted, truths coming easier in the darkness. 

 

Hannibal exhaled softly, considering this. “They are whatever we make of them.” He said. “We may discuss them at length, of course, but preferably on more sleep. For now, may I hold you?” He asked and Will scooted closer before turning his back to Hannibal, but in invitation rather than rejection. Hannibal didn’t need Will to spell it out for him, and obliged, curling an arm around Will’s middle and pressing his body into the contours of Will’s. 

 

“You know I sweat when I sleep.” Will said quietly, like he was warning Hannibal away. A notion that he didn’t even realize was as ridiculous as it truly was. 

 

“I turned on the ceiling fan.” Hannibal stated, like it explained everything. Still, he elaborated, “I have bathed in the blood of my enemies, Will. Do you really think I would take exception to your sweat?” He asked.

 

“Well when you put it like that...” Will chuckled despite himself. 

 

Hannibal nosed into his curls, breathing in his scent unabashedly. “Indeed. After all, your perspiration would only heighten your natural scent, one I have admittedly become quite addicted to, it seems.” 

 

Will wrinkled his nose at the thought, but didn’t protest. He imagined it was something like his dogs, who also liked scenting him when he was drenched in sweat. Perhaps it was a familiarity thing? A reassurance of the presence and health of a person you cared for? Will was exhausted if he was seriously comparing Hannibal’s nose to a dog’s. “We all have our kinks.” Will said instead, sleepily and almost deliriously. 

 

Hannibal stilled and then exhaled, bordering on fond exasperation. “It’s not...to call it a  _ kink _ , of all things...” He trailed off, realizing that arguing would be futile, especially considering the way Will’s shoulders shook in his arms with silent laughter. “Very well, terrible boy. Have your fun.” He sighed. 

 

“Mmm, I will. Moreso when I wake up...” Will mumbled.

 

“Is that so?” Hannibal questioned, intrigued by this half-asleep Will with loosened tongue and lowered inhibitions. 

 

“Yep.”

 

“And what shall you do when you awake?” 

 

“I’m gon’ see your dick.” Will slurred, and Hannibal was certain he was more asleep than awake.

 

“Oh?” Hannibal was incapable of further comment at present. 

 

“Yeah. Didn’t get t’see it before...when y’spanked me and I called you Daddy...” Will yawned, and the hint of his accent peeking through nearly had Hannibal hard in his pants. It was a very close thing, but exhaustion won out, ultimately. 

 

“Certainly, Will. You’re welcome to it whenever you’d like.” Hannibal promised. 

 

\-----

 

Will surprisingly woke first, the digital clock at the bedside reading four in the morning. He yawned and stretched as much as he was able to, caught in Hannibal’s embrace. He was surprised to see he’d slept almost twelve hours straight, but he supposed that they’d all been more overworked and exhausted than usual. 

 

Will reached over to the nightstand and turned on the lamp before turning in Hannibal’s arms to look at him. It was strange to wake up beside someone, and Will felt off somehow, like something was different or like he was forgetting something. 

 

He frowned as he observed Hannibal, who looked far more peaceful in sleep than Will felt he had any right to, and tried to determine what it was the felt so unusual about this morning. It took Will a while to realize that he hadn’t woken up in the middle of the night with a nightmare. And...he was still wearing his t-shirt, which was completely dry. No night sweats either. 

 

Will’s scowl only deepened as he turned these facts over in his mind. He refused to believe it was something so trite as to finally have shared a bed, soothed in the night by Hannibal’s mere presence. There was very little soothing about Hannibal, if Will was being honest with himself. Although if he were being truly honest with himself, he wouldn’t be afraid to admit that he was, in fact, more than a little comforted by Hannibal’s proximity. 

 

“Is waking in my arms truly cause for such distress?” Hannibal murmured, voice thick with sleep and Will’s eyes snapped to his, his creased forehead relaxing as one side of his mouth quirked up in amusement. 

 

“I was lost in thought.” Will said, even though Hannibal could have guessed as much. 

 

“Dare I ask what thoughts plague you at so early an hour?” Hannibal asked. 

 

“I slept well. Really well.” Will explained. “But it doesn’t make any sense.” 

 

“It doesn’t make sense to you that making peace with your inner nature would bring you peace in other areas?” He asked. 

 

Which...when he put it that way, Will almost felt silly. Almost. “It...shouldn’t be like that, though. There isn’t a magic off-switch to something that’s bothered me almost my entire life, Hannibal.” 

 

Hannibal hummed in thought and tugged Will closer. “Then allow me to propose that last night, or afternoon as it was, you were merely too exhausted for your mind to conjure the usual images that haunt you.” 

 

Will sighed in Hannibal’s arms, trying not to feel self-conscious as he burrowed his face in the soft cashmere of Hannibal’s sweater. “Maybe...” He agreed. “I don’t think all of this has sunken in entirely yet.” He admitted.

 

“I feel much the same.” Hannibal admitted quietly. “I still cannot quite fathom it.” 

 

“Although...changing the subject...” Hannibal continued, mischief creeping into his voice. 

 

“What...?” Will asked warily. 

 

“You said something very interesting last night, just as you were drifting off to sleep.” 

 

_ Oh god. Had he? What had he said?  _ Will panicked for a moment before remembering that he was sure Hannibal had extracted worse secrets from him than what he’d inadvertently spoken last night. “Do I want to know?” 

 

“I believe you said you intended to see my dick.” 

 

Will gaped for a moment, pulling away from Hannibal to stare at him, more shocked to have heard the words fall from Hannibal’s lips than the words themselves, which hadn’t really registered. But when they did, Will blushed crimson. “Oh god...” 

 

“I, of course, informed you that you’re welcome to it whenever you’d like, but I felt the sentiment bore repeating since you weren’t truly awake when you spoke.” 

 

Will shook his head in disbelief, scrubbing a hand down his face.  This was...mortifying to say the least. “Hannibal...” 

 

“There is no need to feel bashful, Will. I believe we’re a little past that, don’t you think?” Hannibal pointed out, eyes twinkling as he no doubt recalled everything they’d already done to be ‘past that’. 

 

Will hated that Hannibal, was, technically right. He narrowed his eyes as he contemplated this and thought back on their previous...encounters. Well, he figured this was something of a pivotal moment in their relationship. Will decided what he’d do, and figured that Hannibal’s reaction would determine where they’d go from there. 

 

In a move far more graceful than anything Will was usually able to accomplish, he managed to push Hannibal back before straddling him, ending up sitting on his hips, hands braced against his broad chest. Hannibal smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hello, Will.” He quipped and Will just rolled his eyes. 

 

He rocked his hips back, gratified at the bulge he felt in Hannibal’s pants before scooting back further until he was perched near Hannibal’s knees. He made eye contact as he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of Hannibal’s pants, and the twinkle in his eye was all the confirmation Will needed before he began to tug them down slowly. 

 

Hannibal lifted his hips to help, and Will let out a shuddering breath when Hannibal was left in his boxer-briefs - black, and probably far more expensive than the entirety of Will’s old wardrobe. He dropped his eyes somewhat bashfully, not able to cope with Hannibal’s fathomless gaze fixed on him so intently, and tugged the front of his underwear down and out enough for Hannibal’s cock to spring out. Will licked his lips. 

 

“Will...” Hannibal started, but Will didn’t much want to hear what he was saying. Hannibal wasn’t pushing him away, so Will carried on, leaning forward to envelope Hannibal’s cock in the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. “Ohhhhhh....darling boy...” Hannibal praised, a hand drifting to lay atop Wills curls, only slightly flattened by sleep. 

 

“You’re mine, Hannibal.” Will pulled off just long enough to say. “I think it’s becoming clear to me, the difference between my becoming...and what you think my becoming ought to be.” He said before returning to suck at Hannibal. 

 

“Is...is that so, Will?” Hannibal inquired breathlessly, only halfway able to follow what Will was saying. And how could he, when he finally had that sinful  mouth wrapped tight around him, like he’d only ever dared dream about?

 

“Mmmm...” Will hummed in affirmative, bobbing his head a few more times before pulling off and allowing his hands to do most of the work. “I’m not here to be your creation, Hannibal. I’m not a hatchling monster for you to direct.” 

 

“Then what... _ ah! _ ...what are you, dear boy?” He asked, beside himself with pleasure, but still interested in the conversation nonetheless. How utterly fascinating that Will should choose to discuss this after bringing Hannibal to arguably the most vulnerable position he could be in, while remaining uninjured. 

 

Will took a moment to respond, focusing on teasing the head of Hannibal’s cock, tonguing along the foreskin and nibbling it oh so gently, until Hannibal was gasping and moaning his pleasure. Then Will abruptly stopped. “I’m your equal.” He said, looking up and meeting Hannibal’s eyes. “Nothing less, nothing more. Equals.” 

 

While the Will Hannibal had met in the beginning - a trembling, unsteady fawn of a man - had been endlessly fascinating and held it’s own appeal, this Will, this...force of nature, ready to make demands and hold fast to them, was one that Hannibal had to admit was infinitely more arousing, and in an entirely different way. 

 

“Do I make my myself clear?” Will asked, gripping Hannibal’s cock by the base, almost too tightly.

 

“Yes, Will.” Hannibal agreed, hips wiggling a little as he tried to get Will’s hand to move. It only tightened further, prompting a gasp from his lips.

 

“No mind games, Hannibal. I’ll kill with you, I’ve proven that I will. I’ll eat your food, and enjoy it. I’m choosing you, I have chosen you. All I ask is that you respect me.” Will explained, and Hannibal nodded solemnly, hips obediently still as his chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing. 

 

“I do.” Hannibal vowed. “And I will continue to do so.” 

 

Will smiled then, crawling up Hannibal’s body to kiss him, slotting their mouths together and licking gently past his lips. Their kiss soon grew more heated as they both nipped and sucked at each others’ lips, moaning desperately. The kiss felt like something decadent, something that Will ought to feel guilty about having, but he refused to even entertain that idea. No, he told himself that he deserved this, deserved this happiness that had very nearly passed him by. 

 

Will squirmed against Hannibal, searching for his own friction, and reached down with one hand to shimmy out of his boxers to lie against Hannibal’s bare skin. Hannibal was the one who reached down to take them both in hand, prompting a full-body shiver from Will, and a deep moan from Hannibal, which seemed to come from deep within his chest. 

 

Will held himself above Hannibal, looking down between their bodies at the way that Hannibal’s large hand almost was able to grip both their lengths completely. But then, Hannibal’s cock was quite large anyway, not that Will’s was small, but in comparison...well. Still, Will wrapped his own hand around the part that Hannibal couldn’t quite reach, their fingers brushing in a way that shouldn’t have been as thrilling as it was, not when they were both actively jerking off. 

 

“Oh god, Hannibal...” Will gasped, thrusting his hips into the tunnel of their joined hands, feeling the silky slide of Hannibal’s skin against his. It was delicious and as precome flowed between them, it felt so good Will wondered if this in and of itself shouldn’t be in some way criminal. 

 

“Oh my darling, yes...” Hannibal breathed, his hand tightening as they both drew closer. It seemed that neither of them would last very long, nor did they particularly want to. They moved against each other, panting hotly against joined mouths, more just a sharing of breath than an actual kiss. None of their movements had any kind of finesse, both of them too caught up in their pleasure, too caught up in chasing their release. 

 

Their climaxes, when they came, seemed like a release of more than just sexual tension. They clung to each other, shivering and shuddering as they fell apart, pieces shattering and mixing and melding back together to create two beings not entirely themselves and not entirely other. 

 

Will pulled off his t-shirt after a few moments of lying pressed together in the wake of their release, and used it to wipe away the mess they’d managed to make of each other. Hannibal wrinkled his nose at the action, but didn’t say anything, even when Will threw the shirt on the floor without a single care. 

 

“Sweet, vicious, headstrong boy...” Hannibal sighed. “How I adore you.” He confessed, wrapping his arms around him, holding Will as close as possible. 

 

Will lifted his head to look at Hannibal properly, trading soft little kisses that paradoxically made him want to blush. Was this what love was? Finding nourishment at the very sight of someone? Aching whenever they weren’t near? Will wasn’t sure, but he also couldn’t think of a better word to describe it. Perhaps love was too paltry a word indeed to be able to encompass the entirety of their relationship. 

 

“I never could have thought we’d end up here, after everything.” Will whispered. The moment felt tentative, fragile, and he was careful not to shatter it. 

 

“I could whisper through the chrysalis, Will, but what emerged I could never have predicted.” Hannibal said quietly. 

 

“We’re...conjoined. Even if separation was possible...we’d be left adrift. Half of a whole.” 

 

“We share vital organs.” 

 

Will smiled. “Are you saying I have your heart, Doctor Lecter?” He teased. 

 

“In its entirety.” Hannibal replied, returning the smile. He looked so...soft like this. In his sweater, with hair falling in his face, post-coital and relaxed. 

 

“I think...although I must admit I don’t have something to compare it against, but...I think I’ve fallen in love with you.” Will said very softly. 

 

“Oh, dearest Will. Isn’t it absolutely terrifying?” Hannibal asked. 

 

“God, yes.” 

 

“I know. It terrifies me as well.” He agreed. 

 

It wasn’t going to be easy, learning to live with another person, especially for two equally stubborn men. But...Abigail was a much-appreciated buffer. And more than that, neither could imagine a life without the other. 

 

Even when Abigail declared she’d like to go to college, and they decided to tour Europe on their own extended vacation, they knew for a fact that while their lives weren’t perfect, they were wholly devoted to each other. 

 

And when Hannibal dropped to one knee in the middle of the Boboli Gardens in Florence, what else could Will possibly say but  _ yes _ . 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](yggdrastiles.tumblr.com)


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